


Safe and warm in your coat of arms

by frenchkiss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Authentic British university experiences, Cisgirls Harry Louis and Zayn, Cunnilingus, Dementia, Drink Spiking, F/F, Genderswap, Homophobia, Lesbian Sex, Lots of alcohol, Major Illness, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Abuse, everyone else is as they are, of a minor character, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchkiss/pseuds/frenchkiss
Summary: If she's being completely honest with herself, Louis didn't want a girlfriend. She had fully intended to head off to university, fuck around a bit, and be the lesbian that her hometown hadn't let her be.Too bad fate wanted to throw a spanner in the works. A tall, curly haired cherub of a spanner who tends to answer to the name Harry, to be exact.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HI EVERYONE. Here is the 55k disaster of a lesbian university AU that I've been working on for what feels like forever! It's one huge self-indulgence and I'm so excited to finally be posting this!!
> 
> Disclaimer 1: This fic is based heavily off my own university experiences here in the UK. And we drank. A lot. All the time. So alcohol is a very pertinent feature in this fic, and there is a scene where a character gets their drink spiked (also based off my own experience) so if that makes you uncomfy then this fic might not be right for you, I'm sorry!  
> Disclaimer 2: The mentions of dementia in this fic are also heavily based off my own experiences with dementia in two of my family members; I took parts from each and created one character, but I am not a doctor or nurse and this is my own interpretation.  
> Disclaimer 3: The family members of the girls (especially Harry's) are in no means a reflection of them in real life. I don't know them, and they're probably very nice people, a lot nicer than I've written them in here. 
> 
> OKAY ENJOY TTYL XOXOXO

_“Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together?_

_Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.”_

\-           _Emery Allen_

 

 

 

“Never have I ever had my arsehole licked.”

Louis grins around her straw and takes a hefty slurp of her vodka cranberry, unembarrassed as the group around her shriek and point. She throws her head back in a laugh and shrugs her shoulders.

“Are you telling me that literally _none_ of you have had that done to you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” the bubbly blonde to her right – Perrie, Louis thinks she said her name was – screeches. “Urgh, gross. Okay, your turn, Louis.”

Louis blinks a few times, mulling over her options. “Never have I ever done it up the bum.”

Two of the girls across the table drink, both with flaming cheeks, and Louis laughs even louder, shaking her head.

“Never have I ever had a threesome,” comes from Niall, the loud Irish lad whose room is next to Louis’s. Nobody drinks this time, so he ends up downing his can of Stella, belching and crumpling it in his hand when he’s finished.

Louis’s a good kind of drunk, the right kind of drunk for you to know you’re going to have a cracking night, and that’s exactly what she’s here for. After the longest day of moving all her stuff into her flat, meeting her flatmates, attending a brief campus orientation and then finally being able to start drinking and get ready to party, Louis is so, _so_ ready to get hammered.

This is what your university fresher’s week is all about, after all.

Her flat is smaller than she’d anticipated – Stan’s living in a flat of ten at his uni, but she’s in a flat of six – but the girls across the hall had knocked on their door around dinnertime and asked if they all wanted to drink together, and they’d immediately accepted. There’s now eleven of them crammed into Louis’s odd-shaped kitchen, but they all seem like great people and she’s excited to get to know them better.

“Harry, your turn.”

The quiet girl on Louis’s left looks up from her can of cider, biting her lip. “Um,” she offers, looking a little nervous. Louis notices she hasn’t drunk that much, but she seems keen to come out with them all so she hopes this isn’t too much for her. Maybe she’s homesick already. “Never have I ever had sex in a club toilet.”

The gorgeous girl whose room is straight across from Louis – Zayn – takes a quick swig of her drink, but not quick enough for everyone not to immediately notice and start yelling. Louis takes this moment to look at Harry, who’s still chewing on her bottom lip, and she rests a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“Hi,” she offers, smiling. Harry smiles back, but Louis doesn’t miss the way her hands tighten around her can. “You alright, love?”

“I… yeah, I’m good,” Harry replies, sounding relieved. She looks younger than Louis, maybe even the youngest out of everyone round the table. “I’ve never played this game before, that’s all.”

“Hey, it’s not always the most fun game,” Louis says. They used to play it a lot back in sixth form, and before she’d had sex she was super embarrassed to get involved. “We can play something else if you’re not comfortable.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, and it’s so earnest that Louis feels a pang of something in her tummy. “It’s just, like…”

“Never have I ever had sex with someone of the same gender,” Perrie’s voice cuts over her. “Lou, come on, drink up!”

Louis can’t help but roll her eyes at the interruption. “Well, it’s not _my_ fault I’m a lesbian,” she grumbles, but obediently downs her drink. It burns just right, so she moves forward and starts to fix herself another one. Until…

“Harry, you sly thing,” Niall whoops, slinging an arm over her shoulder. “Are you a rug muncher too?”

“ _Niall!_ ”

Niall shrugs, unembarrassed, but Harry’s cheeks are positively flaming.

“I… yeah, I’m a… I’m gay too,” she says, voice quiet and clipped. “I hope that’s… that’s okay with you.”

“Obviously.” Louis jumps in, leans back and slips her arm through Harry’s. “Oh my _god_ , it’s gonna be so nice no longer being the only gay in the village.”

The rest of the table roars with laughter and they carry on the game, but Louis hangs back again, trying to surreptitiously slide her chair back so it’s more level with Harry’s. “Hey,” she murmurs again, wrapping a hand around Harry’s wrist and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Good for you.”

“What?” Harry asks. She’s still bright red in the face, and from where she’s holding her wrist Louis can practically feel her racing pulse.

“It’s okay, what you just did was great,” she reassures, offering her a bright smile. “It’s not always easy to say it out loud, especially in front of groups of new people.”

Harry nods and takes a long pull from her can. “I’ve never… I wasn’t really out back home, so…” She admits this quietly, and _fuck_ , Louis wants to protect this girl, take her under her wing and show her how to be the best lesbian she can be. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Louis promises. “Do you feel better for saying it out loud?”

“Yes,” Harry admits with a hesitant nod. “Loads, actually.”

“Good,” Louis says, and then, “hey, there’s an LGBT society here and there’s a few nights out to the gay district this week. We could join together if you’d like.”

“Really?” Harry says, and she looks a lot brighter than she did two minutes ago. “I’d really like that, Louis.”

“Alright, babe, we’ll do that tomorrow,” Louis promises, then finally lets go of Harry’s wrist and slides back, reaching for her drink. They share a smile, and Louis turns back to the group. “Whose go is it?”

“Yours,” one of the lads – Liam? – says, and Louis nods, taps her chin while she thinks.

“Never have I ever gone… skinny dipping!”

The night continues.

*

Louis wakes up the next morning with the mother of all hangovers, her head pounding hard enough to keep her from moving from her bed for a solid hour. She emerges from her room close to midday, heading towards their shared kitchen in her Disney Princess pyjamas and bare feet, and when she shoulders her way through clumsily she’s almost pleased to see that the rest of the flat are all sprawled across the sofas, none of them looking any better than she feels.

“Hi,” she croaks, feet slapping against the cheap laminate flooring as she drags herself towards the kettle. “Anyone else in desperate need of a cuppa like I am?”

“Fuck, yes please,” Zayn moans, her head resting in Perrie’s lap. Liam also grumbles something that Louis takes to be a yes, so she fills the kettle to the brim and locates any three random mugs, dumps a teabag in each, and just hopes they all take it the same way she does. She carries theirs across first and then returns for her own, then flops down on the only space on the sofa, shoving Niall’s feet out the way as she goes.

“What the fuck did we all drink last night?” she groans.

“Fuck knows,” Niall mumbles. “Everything, if my upset tummy is anything to go by.”

“Jesus,” Zayn mutters, brushing her long hair to one side. She still looks stunning, even with last night’s make-up caking across her cheeks, and Louis groans again. “I feel like between us we drank half the fucking student union.”

“I’ve never gotten drunk like that before,” Harry admits quietly, and Louis turns, studies her carefully from where she’s curled up at Liam’s side. Liam reaches out and pats the top of her head like she’s a cat. “That’s definitely the most I’ve ever drunk, like, well, ever.”

“You and me both, young Harriet,” Louis tells her, and when Harry offers her a smile, albeit a weary one, she immediately starts to feel a bit better. “What even happened, can anyone remember?”

“We didn’t even leave the union,” Liam tells them as he rubs at his eyes. “We literally just got drunk in the bar and then stumbled home when it closed.”

“Cheap drinks though,” Perrie recalls. “Like one pound shots, two pound doubles. I went out with a tenner and came back with change.”

“Christ,” Louis mutters. “Well, at least we haven’t got much to do today, right?”

“Actually, there’s course introductions from two o’clock onwards,” Harry says with a grimace. “At least that’s when mine is.”

“Shit,” Louis curses, shoving her hair up in a messy topknot. “What are you studying again?”

“Veterinary Science.”

“Fuck,” Louis whistles. “Look at you, little miss smarty pants.”

Harry ducks her head, but Louis spies her grin. “I just like animals,” she says quietly, shrugging her shoulders.

“Nah, don’t play yourself down, that’s _sick_ ,” Niall tells her. “What are you studying, Louis?”

“Law & Criminology,” Louis says, then reaches for her tea. “You?”

“Music Tech.”

“Art History,” says Perrie, and Zayn mumbles something about studying English Lit with a minor in Music. Liam’s studying Physical Geography, so none of them end up being on the same course, but Louis kind of likes that. It’s nice to have friends both on and off your course, and if the way they’re all curled around each other after having known one another for just a day, they’re all going to get on like a house on fire.

Eventually they part ways and head back to their bedrooms, and Louis takes a long shower before she gets dressed again and heads out to her orientation. They head out as a six and bump into the flat across the way – Jesy, Jade, Leigh, Ed and Greg – and they walk down together, splitting off gradually as they make their way through campus and find their faculties.

It turns out that Leigh is also on Louis’s course, so the two sit together and try not to fall asleep on each other’s shoulders as their lecturer drones on and on for what feels like hours about compulsory attendance and their essays and coursework for the year. Once that’s over, they head straight back to their flat, picking up more booze and some ready meals from the campus shop on their way, because they’re heading out again in a few hours and they’re both starving.

Pre-drinks starts earlier that night because everyone’s a lot more comfortable with one another already, plus they’re all keen to make it a little further than the student union tonight. There’s a huge night planned at one of the clubs in the city centre, so they all dress up and start drinking around their kitchen table again, then once they’re all suitably tipsy they call cabs and make their way into town.

The club is loud when they arrive, the beat harsh under Louis’s feet as the group move through the entranceway and onto the dancefloor. Louis isn't quite drunk, not yet, but the six beers or so she had in the flat have loosened her up nicely and she finds herself swaying her hips to the beat, laughing loudly as Liam tries to copy her.

They head to the bar and they all take a round of shots, then another. The alcohol is harsh on Louis’s tongue but it's nothing she hasn't drunk before, so she necks it back easily. Then a Drake song starts playing, and Perrie and Jade both grab her hand and lead her onto the floor, and they playfully grind on one another, hands on hips and _higher powers taking a hold on me, I need a one dance_. The cheap vodka and lemonade isn't exactly a Hennessy in her hand, but she's got good company all around her and the night is young.

And then there's Harry.

Harry didn't come onto the dancefloor with her and the rest of the girls, and Louis catches her lingering awkwardly by the bar on her own, which Louis isn’t having. She pats Jesy’s hip and excuses herself, trotting over to her, one hand pushing her hair out her face and the other reaching for Harry.

“Babe,” she shouts over the music. “Babe, come dance.”

Harry shakes her head and shrugs. “Not my thing,” she shouts back. Louis, who has never been very good at taking no for an answer, pouts and tilts her head towards the dancefloor.

“Pleaseee?” she pleads, jutting her bottom lip out as far as it'll go. “Come on, we miss you out there.”

Harry doesn't look convinced. “I'm honestly fine, Louis.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes though. “Go and dance, honestly.”

Louis shakes her head. “Let me buy you a drink,” she offers, then turns towards the bar, artfully arranging her shirt so it dips lower, the curve of her breasts accentuated. There's a bartender over to her in seconds. “Hiya, two vodka lemonades please. Doubles.”

The bartender winks and then disappears to fix her drinks, and she leans back, smug, as the guy next to her grumbles something about being there fucking first. She looks back to Harry, who looks kind of stunned.”

“What's up, love?”

“I just… aren't you gay?” Harry blurts, then immediately looks like she regrets saying anything.

“Yeah,” Louis answers, unabashed. “But there ain't anything that says I can't use what God gave me to my advantage, right?”

“I…” Harry says, then nods. “I guess.”

The bartender returns with their drinks and Louis uses Apple Pay without sparing the bartender another glance. “Drink up, babe,” she coaxes, dropping a straw into the cup. She necks her own back in seconds, tipsy enough for the harsh taste to barely register on her tongue anymore.

Harry slurps at the drink slowly, and with a hand to her hip Louis guides them away from the bar, not towards the dancefloor but towards a table in the corner.

“Is that okay?” she calls, the music finally getting a little quieter as they move away. Harry nods and continues to slurp. “Good. If you want to go though, just tell me and I’ll get a cab with you.”

Harry shakes her head. “I'm fine,” she promises. “But thank you.”

Louis nods. “You do drink, don't you?” she asks, suddenly worried she's become the kind of person she hates, forcing a shy girl into doing something she doesn't want to do. “You’ve not been, like, just drinking this week because everyone else has been, right?”

Harry shrugs. “Not often.” She drains the glass. “I don't _not_ drink.”

“Okay, good,” Louis says with a short laugh, and then before she can help herself she's brushing a couple of curls behind Harry’s ear, thumbing over her cheeks as she goes. “You're very pretty,” she hears herself saying, and then she feels herself blush. Tipsy Louis always had the _worst_ filter.

“I… thank you,” Harry says, so quiet that if Louis wasn't staring at her rather intensely then she probably would have missed it. “I, um, I mean, so are you.”

Louis beams. “Thanks, Haz.”

The vodka lemonade turns into two, and then three, and then suddenly both girls are hammered, dancing up against one another pressed close to the wall. Harry's hands are draped over Louis’s shoulders, Louis’s arms wrapped around Harry's waist, and they're giggling like mad as they mouth the words to the song playing.

_Lightning strikes every time she moves… and everybody's watching her, but she's looking at you-ou-ou…_

Harry's gorgeous, and the song isn't lying. All eyes are on them as people move past them to get to the bar or the loos, but Louis is transfixed. She finds herself licking her lips, hungry for something more than just the feel of Harry's arms around her, and she's drunk enough for this to seem like an absolutely brilliant idea.

“Hey,” she murmurs, and Harry grins, raises her eyebrows, expectant. “You're a lesbian too, didn't you say?”

Harry nods, just once.

The song changes; the air gets suddenly thicker, more charged.

Bebe Rexha’s voice croons through the speakers and Louis repositions herself so they’re standing a little closer, crotch to crotch. The slow beat doesn’t stop Louis from moving her hips in a tighter circle, and she almost chuckles when she feels Harry’s breath hitch.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” she has to ask, leaning right into Harry’s space, boxing her in. “Would you kiss me back?”

Harry’s mouth hangs open, her eyes wide, and for a split second Louis panics she’s gone too far, panics that this is more innocent than she let herself, but then Harry leans forward and crushes their mouths together, hard enough that it almost takes Louis by surprise.

_I got you-ou-ou-ou, you-ou-ou-ou…_

Louis met Harry less than forty-eight hours ago, but this isn’t the kind of kiss you share with someone you’ve only known that long.

There’s a book that Louis got in her Christmas stocking one year, back when she thought she was going to go on to uni to do English, a book of poems of life and love and everything else that she’d scoffed at at first but now she keeps under her pillow, dog-eared and well thumbed. When she was seventeen and she was head over heels for a girl she barely knew, she’d circled words in a purple gel pen, and right now, as she kisses this girl she barely knows, the words float back to her hazy drunk brain.

_“These, our bodies, possessed by light._

_Tell me we'll never get used to it.”_

Because this isn’t the kind of kiss you share with someone after knowing them less than forty-eight hours. Harry may taste like cheap vodka and cheap lipstick, but that doesn’t matter. She kisses like she needs it for air, she kisses like she’ll crumble and wither away without Louis’s mouth on her. She kisses like she didn’t know who she was before this kiss, and Louis tries to kiss back like that because this is truly, truly the best kiss she’s ever shared with anyone before.

But unfortunately she’s too drunk to say anything more coherent than a “holy _fuck_ ” before she’s grabbing Harry’s face again and kissing her, kissing her, kissing her, until her knees buckle and they separate, gasping for air.

“Do you kiss everyone like that?” she hears herself ask, reverent. She caresses Harry’s cheek, her thumb dipping into the dimple there. Harry shakes her head and licks her lips.

“Just you, Louis,” she says, and she’s quiet but the way she says Louis’s name has Louis’s ears ringing, her mouth dropping open a little before she smirks.

It goes straight to her pussy.

From then on, the dancing goes from cheeky and flirty to positivity filthy, dirty hip grinds and fervent kisses and roaming hands. It’s like she’s in a trance because everything is Harry right now and Louis is so drunk.

She wants to fuck her.

“Okay,” Harry mumbles against her throat and shit, she may have said that out loud. But Harry’s pupils are blown, her lips kiss-bitten, and there’s purple lipstick on her chin. She looks a mess, but in the best way because it’s Louis that messed her up, and that’s hot.

“Come on, then,” Louis says, practically growls, scraping her teeth lightly over Harry’s neck, feels it tremble underneath her touch. “Let's get you home.”

*

The next morning Louis wakes up with a face full of hair, her body curved around Harry’s much longer one. She snuffles a bit and then blinks, brushing the hair to one side before she grins, memories of last night pleasantly coming back to her.

Harry was gorgeous underneath her and she’s even more gorgeous now. Once Louis leans back a little she can see the bruises her mouth left on Harry’s shoulders, the finger marks on her back and hips. Last night had been brilliant – _Harry_ had been brilliant – and the fact that she’s stayed the night leads Louis to wonder two things: one, how the _hell_ she’s not more hungover and two, whether this is going to be more than a one night thing.

Careful not to wake her, she slips out from under the duvet and locates her underwear, then unhooks Harry’s dressing gown from the back of the door and wraps it around herself. She heads into the kitchen to make tea, hazarding a guess at how Harry takes hers, then heads back to Harry’s room to cuddle.

Harry’s awake when she opens the door precariously, and she’s pulled a giant t-shirt on, but no underwear. Louis grins as she slides through the door, setting the mugs on the desk before she leans against the wardrobe. “Morning, darling.”

“Morning,” Harry croaks, then ducks forward and gathers her vast amount of hair between her fingers, securing it in a topknot with an old clip. Her gaze stays down, not quite meeting Louis’s eyes. “Last night was nice.”

“Last night was awesome,” Louis says, unapologetic. She loves sex, always has, and isn’t going to pass it off as just something that happened when it was _that_ good. “How’s your head this morning?”

“Good,” Harry breathes, looking up enough to offer Louis a smile. “Don’t even feel hungover. You?”

Louis reaches for her mug and toasts the air. “Nothing a little Yorkshire tea and some eggs on toast won’t fix.”

“Is… one of those for me?” Harry asks, tentative, looking awkwardly at the other mug on the desk. It’s one of Louis’s and it’s a little chipped on one side, the words around it reading _I like big mugs and I cannot lie._

“Yep,” Louis tells her, nudging it a couple of inches closer to Harry. “I wasn’t quite sure how you’d take it so I guessed. Milk and one sugar, but I can go and put some more in if you’d like.”

Harry smiles softly. “No, that’s… that’s perfect,” she says, and then, “how much do I owe you for it?”

Louis opens her mouth, but then Harry’s question, what she actually just asked, hits her and she closes it again. She blinks at her a few times instead. “What?”

“How much do I owe you for the cuppa?” Harry says again, like that’s a perfectly standard question to ask. “20p? 30p?”

“Harry, sorry, but what the fuck are you on about?” Louis blurts. “It’s tea, it’s… you don’t owe me anything for a cup of tea.”

“Oh,” Harry says, looking down at her lap, blushing profusely. “Okay. Thank you, then.”

“Anytime,” Louis says, going for breezy and failing. She’s confused, but she wants cuddles so she decides to let it slide. “Hey, what are your thoughts on cuddling?”

Harry splutters. “I… I mean, I’ve never…”

“You’ve never cuddled after sex?” Louis asks incredulously, then without another word sets her mug down on the desk again and practically launches herself at Harry, back onto the bed and under the duvet. Harry squawks but she goes with it, lets Louis wrap herself around her back like a vine. Louis kisses the back of her neck, unabashed, and settles into the warmth.

“Lou,” Harry breathes, sounding a little nervous. It’s clear to Louis that she hasn’t quite relaxed into this, perhaps nervous to be doing this again in the harsh light of day, so Louis rests a hand on her tummy, rubs what she hopes are soothing circles. “ _Lou_.”

“What’s up, baby?” Louis asks, but Harry practically purrs under her hands, relaxing under her touch and into her. “Oh, you like this?”

“Never been cuddled like this,” Harry admits in a mumble, then moves one of her hands to rest atop Louis’s. Then she retracts it, like it’ll burn one of them if she keeps it there for long, so Louis consciously seeks it out under the duvet and brings it back, lacing their fingers.

“You okay like this?” Louis asks, and Harry nods. “Good. If you don’t want to cuddle or you think this is, like, too much considering we’re just flatmates that shagged once then honestly tell me.”

Harry nods again, but it’s stiffer this time.

Perhaps it is all too much for her. Louis has always been a hugely tactile person, always hugging, always touching, always using pet names. That’s part of who she is, and perhaps Harry doesn’t get that yet.

Harry is definitely something special though. She’s shy, sometimes almost painfully so, but there’s an attraction there that’s impossible for either of them to deny. From day one Louis was ready to take Harry under her wing, but now she’s gotten to see her naked, gotten to see what she looks like when she comes, and well. It’s all Louis’s been able to think about, and she would very much like a repeat performance.

It’s not exactly fireworks and lightning bolts, but the tension between them is palpable. Louis finds herself always wanting to be closer, always wanting to be touching, even if it’s just a hand around the wrist, linked fingers, or shoulder to shoulder.

Harry seems nervous, or perhaps _tentative_ is the better word. She meets all of Louis’s touches and as the days go on she even begins to initiate one or two, but there’s a reserved nature about her, like every move she makes is carefully calculated, but also like she can’t stop herself. It’s evident that being with someone else is new territory for her, and that’s okay. Louis isn’t sure what they are right now, but she wants to keep exploring, keep having fun.

This isn’t exactly what she’d planned to come to uni and find, but she’s not complaining.

This magnetism to one another crashes around them about a week later, where a simple pub night out with the girls from next door turns into Harry riding Louis’s thigh frantically upon their return. They kiss each other with bite, Harry’s hands woven in Louis’s knotted hair, Louis’s fingers marking Harry’s middle as she encourages her on, guides her to a messy orgasm.

Harry slumps against her and Louis whines, winding one arm around her tired body before she furiously gets a hand on herself. Harry’s breath is hot on her neck and she mewls, coming with Harry’s name on her lips before she topples backwards onto the mattress, bringing Harry with her.

They’re both soaking, sweaty and fucked out, but Louis can’t help but laugh and then kiss her fervently.

“You’re fucking incredible,” she tells her against her lips, and Harry sighs, content and happy, then mumbles something unintelligible. “ _Such_ a good fuck, Harry, Jesus.”

“Could ride your thigh all day,” Harry giggles, then rolls over, curling up closer to Louis’s front. It’s nice to see her like this, a little more herself rather than the shy, hesitant girl that Louis thinks she last had sex with. Louis finds herself hoping that this isn’t just the wine talking. “Kiss me?”

Louis is more than happy to oblige, ducking down and parting Harry’s chapped lips with her tongue, aligning their bodies so their breasts are pressed together, their legs tangled. She ends up falling asleep there again, drunker than she remembers being and a little worse for wear in the morning, and on top of her thumping headache she also has sticky thighs and a mouth-shaped bruise on her collarbone.

This time it’s Harry who makes the tea; Louis wakes up to the sound of the door clicking shut, but she doesn’t open her eyes until she hears the familiar sound of mugs being set down on the desk.

“Did you bring me tea?” she slurs, eyes still shut, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice says, croaky and tired. Then she slides under the duvet next to Louis, cold feet pressing against Louis’s shin, and she pulls one of Louis’s arms over her shoulders, cuddling them in. “It’s so cold in the kitchen.”

“Glad you’re back,” Louis hums, nosing at Harry’s neck. Harry is (unfortunately) wearing some kind of clothing, but Louis is also dying a death so perhaps it’s better this way. “Thanks for the tea, love.”

“Any time,” Harry says breezily, then shudders against Louis’s naked chest, and Louis can’t help but whine. “ _Fuck_ , you have cold tits.”

“Don’t make me laugh, I’ll die,” Louis moans, pretending to bite at Harry’s chest. “Jesus. What the _hell_ did we drink last night?”

“I’m not too bad, to be fair,” Harry says, just a hint of smugness in her voice. Bitch. “You, however, drank a whole pitcher of mojito through a straw and then made Liam buy you another pitcher, but of Strongbow.”

“And you let that happen?”

“Oh, yeah, like anyone can stop you,” Harry scoffs playfully. “Jesus, Perrie asked for a sip of your mojito and you threatened to empty her fridge shelf into the bin.”

“Why am I such a prick?” Louis wonders aloud, then whines again as her head throbs, an unpleasant trophy of the evening. “Thanks for making sure I got home alive though. And, you know, for the orgasm.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, going for light but there’s a tone in there that Louis wants to question. Too bad she can barely lift her head, goddammit. “Hey, um, can I ask a question?”

“Is it a yes or no question?”

“Um… yes?”

“Good, because I don’t think I’m up for much more right now,” Louis says, letting her eyes drop closed again. If Harry moves her hand and shuffles up a bit she’ll be so cosy, cosy enough that she could definitely fall asleep again if she just…

“Are we fuck-buddies?” Harry blurts.

It wasn’t the question Louis had been expecting, but she supposes it’s reasonable of Harry to ask, even though right now is definitely not the best time. “Yes?”

She has her face tucked into her neck, but even from here she can imagine the way Harry’s frowning by the way she says, “you don’t sound too sure, Louis.”

“Babe, my head is killing,” she says meekly, hoping it comes out as apologetic as she means it to. “I really want to continue having sex with you though. Not before I’ve had a monster fry-up and maybe a tactical chunder, mind, but I definitely do want to keep up the shagging.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks. “Because I want that too.”

“Settled then,” Louis says, groaning again. She needs some paracetamol right now immediately. “Let’s keep shagging, but dear lord, can I have a paracetamol before I die in your bed?”

Harry mumbles something she can’t quite make out but leaves the bed and returns moments later with two tablets in one hand and Louis’s mug of tea in the other. Sitting up is a bit of a struggle, but she cracks it on the third attempt, and then pretty soon after that she and Harry are back to cuddling with Harry’s laptop perched by their feet, Wednesday’s episode of Bake Off on and doing wonders for Louis’s sore head.

And that’s that.

From then on the shagging happens on a regular basis.

Louis can’t get enough. Fucking _hell_ , Harry is so delicious and her sex drive seems to be as high as Louis’s, and they find themselves tumbling into bed together whenever they’ve got a free period or an evening in. They kiss almost constantly, and it gets to the point where their own flatmates are confused as to whether they’re dating or not.

Louis laughs it off, because they can all be so dense sometimes. Being at uni is about having fun, and that’s the perfect way to sum up what she and Harry are doing. She definitely considers Harry her best mate here, and hey, if she gets all the perks of a friendship plus some bloody phenomenal cuddles and orgasms out of it, then who is she to complain?

Harry is just so beautiful, both in and out of Louis’s bed.

She’s got this smile that makes Louis weak at the knees, a laugh that’s as infectious as it is ugly, smooth hands and lovely long fingers, and hair that cascades in ringlets down her back. She moults like crazy, and more often than not these days Louis wakes up to a mouthful of hair, though it isn’t always attached to Harry’s head.

Louis wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her skin is milky pale, but since this whole thing between them began her thighs and stomach have been littered with bruises, marks from Louis’s fingers and mouth (and one where Louis accidentally kicked her in the stomach while she was getting fingered, but they can look past that). Her eyes are bright, full of curiosity and wonder, and Louis learns to read her like she’s never been able to read another person before. She knows when Harry wants sex, she knows when Harry wants tea or a snack or for the TV to be turned down a little. She knows that Harry isn’t the best sleeper, but she sleeps best when Louis curls around her like a vine, and she knows that if she plays with her hair _just_ right then it’ll settle her.

The third time they shag they’re both sober for once, and once Louis’s mopped them up as best she can with a baby wipe she goes to climb out of bed, ready to return to her own bed, but Harry had let out a long whine of protest, needy enough for Louis to pause.

“What, babe?”

“Stay,” Harry huffs, clinging to Louis like a limpet, and Louis shrugs, nods, then rolls over and falls asleep.

And again, that’s that.

If the fact that they’re two fuck-buddies who share each other’s beds most nights from then on because neither of them can sleep as well without the other is something any of their flatmates finds weird, they don’t voice it, at least not anymore. By the end of October and the start of November, it’s become commonplace to know that wherever there’s a Harry, a Louis won’t be far behind, and vice versa. The only time they’re ever really apart is when they’re in lectures, or when Louis’s at work at the student union, pulling pints a few nights a week just to get some extra cash in.

And despite the fact that she’s not sleeping around with the lesbian population of Yorkshire like she’d planned, she’s really chuffed with how her transition into uni life went. The friends she’s made are all fab, she’s loving her lectures and her job and her lifestyle, and on top of that she’s got regular orgasms and cuddles at the tip of her fingers.

Yeah, life is really bloody great right now.

*

“Oh, god, oh fuck, harder,” Louis grits, her back arching and her legs spasming as Harry drives the vibrator in and out, in and out, each upward thrust on an angle, the angle that she _knows_ will have Louis crying out. Her free arm is wrapped around Louis’s middle, and Louis has one hand furiously rubbing her clit, the other wrapped around the back of Harry’s neck, and she’s so close to coming, so close…

“Come on, Louis,” Harry whispers into her ear. Lips stay pressed to her hair as she keeps the pace heavy, in and out, in and out, and Louis cries out again, desperate for sweet relief. It feels so good, and she’s inches away, _seconds_ away, when…

“Louis, get your ass out here!” Zayn’s voice thunders, then there’s a pounding on her door. Harry’s hand stills, the vibrator mostly outside of Louis, and Louis whines, clenching around nothing, desperate. Now is _not_ the fucking time. “ _Louis Tomlinson_!”

“What is it, Zayn?” Harry calls for her, and _honestly_ god bless, because Louis’s voice got lost somewhere in between her first orgasm and this one. “Louis’s, um, napping.”

“Fuck off, she isn’t,” Zayn scoffs. “You wouldn’t be shouting like this if she was napping.”

There’s a pause. “What is it?” Harry asks again, then hides her face in the juncture between Louis’s neck and shoulder.

“She used my fucking Croc Pot and didn’t wash it up,” Zayn snaps. “I want to make a curry for everyone but there’s half a fucking chicken stuck to the bottom of it.”

_Shit._

“I’ll, um, I’ll be out in five,” Louis says, her voice shaky and hoarse. If her voice doesn’t give them away she’ll be surprised, but she’s sure Zayn’s probably guessed what they’re up to by now. Harry tentatively moves the vibrator back inside her, then flicks it back on, and Louis forgets what’s happening for a split second and moans again, loud enough and filthy enough that Zayn _definitely_ heard.

“Oh my _god_ , you fucking _slags_ ,” Zayn yells, and Louis would laugh, she really would, but she’s a little too busy for that. “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon on a fucking _Tuesday_!”

“We’ll be out in five, I promise,” Harry calls, and _fuck_ , how can her voice still sound so impossibly sweet and sincere when she’s fucking Louis to within an inch of her life with a chunky piece of plastic? “Come _on_ , Lou, come on.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis wheezes, then gets a hand back on herself, and it takes barely a minute to get her back on the edge, then what feels like mere seconds later she’s coming so hard she’s seeing stars, legs flailing and mouth hanging open as Harry removes the vibrator and uses the gentle presses of her fingers to work her through it. “Ha- _rry_.”

Harry grins, kissing her cheek. “Yes?”

“That was fucking…” Louis can’t even speak. All semblance of English has been fucked completely out of her. “Fuck.”

Harry just giggles, then rearranges Louis’s heavy limbs so she can slide out from underneath her. She grabs the vibrator from where it’s been discarded by Louis’s knee and trots into the bathroom. Louis’s eyes are closed but she hears the tap running, then a few moments later there’s a flannel mopping at her damp thighs, then ever so slowly Harry runs it over her aching pussy.

She forces herself to open her eyes, and she grins dopily up at Harry, tugging her down by her necklace and kissing her on the lips. Harry smiles into it, but it doesn’t last long.

“Zayn’s going to have your balls,” she warns Louis, rather unhelpfully.

Louis groans and rolls her eyes. “I’ve just been royally fucked, the last thing I wanna do is scrub chicken carcass off a fucking Croc Pot.” She scrunches her nose up. “I want to return the favour, at the very least.”

Harry rolls her eyes in turn. “Later,” she tells her, then Louis watches rather miserably as Harry pulls on underwear and some old trackie bottoms, followed by her university hoodie. “Just FYI, you’ve been longer than five minutes.”

About ten minutes later, because she does value her life after all, Louis shuffles awkwardly into the kitchen wearing just Harry’s dressing gown and a sheepish grin. Zayn glares at her from the sofa and then stands, arms akimbo, beside her at the sink for a good half hour while Louis scrubs away.

It’s not the first time they’ve been caught in the act, and Louis doubts it’ll be the last. Just a week later, there’s a fire drill in the building and everyone has to be evacuated, but not before Louis’s sucked a bruise into Harry’s shoulder so big that her dressing gown doesn’t cover it. Everyone outside rips into her for the entire duration of the drill, and they all laugh even more afterwards when they realise that neither Harry nor Louis were wearing pants.

They spend their second to last weekend of term cooking a huge Christmas dinner for their flat and next door, and all eleven of them cram into their kitchen, dragging the table from next door awkwardly through the L-shaped hallways, and they eat stodgy potatoes and slightly overcooked chicken and pull cheap crackers and laugh like idiots for hours. For their £5 Secret Santa Louis unwraps the ugliest pair of false lashes she’s ever seen, courtesy of Greg from next door, and ends up secretly swapping them with Jesy for a mini bottle of cheap perfume from Primark. Between them they consume nearly twenty bottles of Tesco Own Brand Buck’s Fizz, which is _insane,_ but as far as Louis’s concerned the hangover and the slight smell that lingers in the flat for a few days afterwards are both totally worth it.

It's one of the best nights Louis’s had at university, and she’s sad when it reaches midnight and everyone traipses out of there and to bed, leaving the kitchen looking like an absolute bombsite. She skives uni the next day with Zayn and Liam, and they scrub it from top to bottom, then spend the afternoon howling with laughter as they leave the extra dining table in front of the lifts so whoever tries to walk out will trip over it.

That turns out to be Niall, and the three of them are in absolute stitches as he swears, goes bright red, and then chases them around the flat with a broom for a solid half-hour.

Deadline day is Tuesday, so once all coursework is handed in the drinking doesn’t stop until the weekend when everyone goes home. They spend most of their nights in the student union, and Louis sneaks back pints behind the bar until her shift finishes and she can join everyone. They almost always end up staying until closing, and it’s a rather heavy (and expensive) week for all of them.

“It’s so shit I won’t be able to spend my birthday with you, or any of the flat to be fair,” Louis grumbles one hungover morning. She’s lazing in Harry’s bed, where they spend the majority of their nights and shags these days, in just a pair of pants and one sock.

“When’s your birthday?” Harry calls from the bathroom, then reemerges with a foamy face. They’d both fallen asleep with their make-up on, and Louis had woken up with a false lash stuck on her chin. It wasn’t her finest moment.

“Christmas Eve,” Louis tells her. “Bane of my damn life, this birthday. Never get to spend it with mates, never get to go out or go for dinner with anyone but my family because people are usually away or with their families.” She groans. “And people always combine your birthday and Christmas presents, and I know I shouldn’t be ungrateful, but…”

Harry laughs, then Louis hears the tap running and then she returns to bed, fresh faced and smelling of mint. Louis kisses her, can’t not when she looks and smells this good in the mornings. It’s a sight she’ll miss dearly over the holidays.

“I’ll get you two,” Harry promises, brushing Louis’s tangled hair off her face. “I’m sorry I can’t be there. I mean…” She pauses, bites her bottom lip as she always does when she’s concerned or thinking. “I could? Maybe?”

Louis shakes her head against the pillow. “Haz, I can’t ask you to come all the way to Donny on Christmas Eve. Don’t you want to spend it with your family?”

“If I could drive I would,” Harry says earnestly, sidestepping the question with practiced ease. Louis bites back a sigh and kisses her instead, and when they break apart she changes the subject, practically begging Harry to make her some waffles. It works, and they don’t talk about it again, not until the last night of term.

It’s another night out, because they’re students and it’s what they do best, but everyone comes together to surprise Louis with birthday girl banners and a huge bottle of vodka, and not even the cheap stuff this time. Louis doesn’t stop grinning the whole night.

They hit up the gay district because they’re all in the mood for the cheesiest pop music they can find and the drinks here are cheap, and it’s also Louis’s favourite place to go because she can snog the living daylights out of Harry on the dancefloor and not have to worry about getting into any fights. She spends the night doing just that, dancing to Abba and singing badly at full volume with all her friends. Harry doesn’t leave her side the entire time.

Louis has no idea what time they make it back to the flat, but she knows that Harry stopped her from having any more alcohol after she slipped over in the middle of the dancefloor and took not only Harry, but also Jesy and Jade, down with her. Since then they’ve been grinding unnecessarily filthily to a variety of pop songs, sipping boring old water in between, but after a little while Louis’s not even arsed.

What she is arsed about, however, is squeezing one final fuck in before they both part ways in the morning.

“Shall we get out of here?” she all but growls, sharp teeth nipping at Harry’s bottom lip. Harry whimpers and nods, and without even asking the rest if they want to split a cab the pair are rushing out of there, towards the taxi rank down the street.

It takes a lot of self-control on Louis’s part to not climb into Harry’s lap and grind during the drive home, but she manages (just about). They fumble for card keys and let themselves in the building, then race upstairs, tearing jackets off and discarding clutch bags the second they’re safely inside the confines of Harry’s bedroom.

They topple gracelessly onto the bed, Harry on top and Louis underneath, and they kiss languidly for a few long minutes. Louis takes the time to slow her racing heartbeat, worried this will be over way too soon if she stays this worked up. And thankfully Harry seems to have a similar idea, happy to just suck lazily on Louis’s neck for a while, leaving a sizeable reminder of their last night together.

Until…

“I don’t want to leave,” Harry mumbles, then immediately looks like she regrets saying anything. There’s a guilt to her expression, almost, and Louis furrows her brows, tries to smooth out the lines creasing Harry’s face with clumsy thumbs. “I mean, I…”

“Hey, I’ll miss you too, you know,” Louis says quietly, cupping her face. Harry nods, then surges forward, kisses all other words from Louis’s lips, and then suddenly tops and skirts are being pulled off and it’s a whirlwind of kisses, of fingers, of frantic touches and muffled cries and shaky legs. It’s hot, it’s desperate, and Louis’s drunk enough to lie there and let Harry play her body like a violin, a practiced musician who knows all the right strings to pluck.

It’s one of the best shags she’s ever had.

Louis falls asleep with her face smushed into Harry’s bare chest and wakes up disastrously late, so despite her pounding head and her desire to just lie in bed all day and cuddle she forces herself up and into the shower. In typical Louis fashion she has packed absolutely nothing, so she frantically runs about Harry’s room, collecting pretty much everything from there and leaving it in a messy pile on the floor before she creeps out and into her room to grab her suitcase.

After she’s shoved a couple of jumpers and pairs of shoes from her own room she tiptoes back into Harry’s room, but Harry’s awake this time, rubbing her eyes.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Louis says with a grin, kissing her forehead before she goes back to frenetically shoving all her clothes and toiletries into her suitcase. “I’m late.”

“Oh,” Harry says, smile dropping from her face. “When’s your train?”

“In about forty-five minutes.” Louis pulls a face and then sits down on her suitcase in a bid to get it to zip closed. “ _Fuck_.”

“Why didn’t you pack last night like I told you to?” Harry chastises, sliding out of bed and padding naked over to the suitcase. She hauls it onto the bed and unzips it, then starts to sort all Louis’s things into neat little piles.

God bless Harry Styles.

Half an hour later Louis’s ordered her Uber, redressed into something a little more acceptable for train travel, and has necked a mug of Yorkshire. Harry’s dressed too, in Louis’s oversized Donny Rovers jumper and some old leggings with holes in, and she looks sleepy and adorable and Louis wants to climb her like a tree.

Harry’s uncharacteristically clingy in Louis’s final minutes in the flat, not letting go of her hand as she drinks her tea, nuzzling into her chest as she ties the laces on her Docs, and wrapping her arms defiantly around her waist as she tries to leave the bedroom to get her taxi.

She laughs it off at first, or at least attempts to, but Harry’s frowning, and then it hits Louis that Harry really doesn’t want Louis to leave. Not in a I’m-trying-to-be-cute way, but in a stay-with-me way.

_What the fuck?_

“Haz, I’ve got to get my train…”

“Just… text me, loads. Yeah?” Harry’s bottom lip starts to wobble, but she drops her hands from Louis’s wrist, and Louis forces herself to look away because she’s got to go. “I can’t, like… I just _need_ to know you’ll text me. You’ll still talk to me, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” she promises, then darts forward and kisses her quickly. With a final squeeze of her hand she grabs her suitcase and hurries in the other direction, or else she’ll do something stupid like miss her train or try and work out how she can fit Harry into her suitcase. “Bye, baby!”

She forces herself not to look back, but that means she misses the sob that Harry lets out before she barrels back into her room, locking the door behind her.

Louis makes her train in the nick of time. She sits down, sees she has three texts from Harry already (one apologising for being dramatic, one saying how embarrassed she is, and one asking if she made it), and she sighs, leaving them unanswered for a little bit as she scratches her head and finally lets herself ponder the question that’s been niggling at her all week.

Why doesn’t Harry want to go home?

*

Louis’s coming out story is short, simple, and pretty boring, if you ask her.

She was fifteen when she kissed her first girl at a family party ( _no, not_ a cousin, as everyone she tells the story to asks) and it felt good. Great, even, and she and the girl had texted a few times, but they were young and mostly unfazed, so it fizzled out pretty quickly.

She told her mum about a month later, and her mum barely batted an eyelid. Her sisters were young enough to accept it easily, her stepdad just clapped her on the shoulder and then asked her what she wanted from the Chinese, and even though her grandparents didn’t really understand it at first, they were keen to learn. Everyone in her family was fine with it, and that was that.

As she went through sixth form, she got a bit of grief from some people, mainly the lads who didn’t like the fact that she was a walking lesbian stereotype for a bit – she cut her hair, she joined the footie team, she wore Vans and Doc Martens with her school uniform, and she didn’t have her biological dad around, so _obviously_ that’s what turned her gay. But she held her head and her middle finger high, then made out with Emma Harris’s older sister at a house party in Year 12, and then suddenly she was cool because Melissa Harris was _fit_.

She and Melissa weren’t much of a thing, but they swapped numbers and had fun together whenever Melissa was back for the holidays. She was the first girl who ever fingered her, who ever ate her out, and the first girl she ever really experimented with. It was fun, and Louis will always look back on their time fondly.

After Melissa went off to do a year abroad, there was Katie. Katie was the year below her in sixth form, and she was funny and bubbly and cute as hell. They were together for about six months, but split before Louis went off to uni because Katie didn’t want to do the distance thing. Later, Louis found out that Katie had been sleeping with another girl throughout the summer, which was a little upsetting, but then again she wasn’t as sad as she’d expected to be. Her and Katie had fun together, but she didn’t love her and them breaking up hadn’t felt like the end of the world.

When she went to uni, she had no intention of finding herself a girlfriend. She wanted to do the cliché uni thing where she sleeps around and explores her sexuality. Her plan had been to join the LGBT society on the first possible day, then go to all the best gay clubs and find herself some hot chicks, then bring them back to her flat and have some fun, rather than sneaking around like she had to when she lived at home.

Coming to uni had resulted in a slight spanner in the works, however. A tall, curly haired cherub of a spanner who tends to answer to the name Harry, to be exact.

Because Louis cares about this girl like crazy, and there’s a lot about their relationship that’s unorthodox, but it works. She’s never had a friend like Harry before – even before she came out, her best friend from early childhood is a lad, and she spent most of her teen years hanging out with Stan and his group of friends. It’s nice to have more friends that are girls, even nicer to have a best friend who is female and queer, but their relationship is so unusual that even her mum raised her eyebrows when Louis explained the bits that she dared.

She and her mum have always been wonderfully close, and she’s so grateful that her mum only makes her feel a little awkward about the whole thing.

Well…

“I mean, do you feel like you can open up to her about all your kinks and stuff? Would she be on board?”

“Mum!”

“What?” her mum asks, throwing her hands up in the air, nearly knocking coffee all over herself. “It tells you a lot, that does.”

“I mean…” Louis looks down at her own steaming mug, prays to every deity she can that none of her siblings choose to walk in any time soon. “We haven’t done, like, anything super kinky. We’ve talked about a few things but the stuff we’ve done hasn’t been, like, that wild.” She pauses, bites the bullet. “I feel like I could ask her though. I trust her enough to make sure I’m, like, safe and stuff.”

(She decides not to mention their shared vibrator.)

Her mum eyes her suspiciously. “And she’s just your best mate, you say?”

“Yes,” Louis says, for what feels like the thousandth time. “That’s all we are, honestly.”

“Oh, baby,” Jay says, leaning forward and squeezing Louis’s knee. “Listen to me. Dan is _my_ best friend, probably the best friend I’ve ever had. Mark was… look, I still love Mark, even if I’m not in love with him. We always had a laugh and we’ve always been super comfortable around one another. Your father, not so much. Piece of shit, if you ask me, but I was like you back then. I wanted to just fuck around and have some fun, and I don’t regret anything about the way my life unfolded, because I was young when I had you, yes, but I have _you_.”

“Awww, _Mummy_!”

“My point,” Jay emphasises, ruffling Louis’s fringe, “is that I’m not stupid, Lou. I was young once too. And I know this place isn’t the best when it came down to you finding girls, so uni seems like a great place to head to and experiment, but.” She fixes her daughter with a stern look. “ _Are_ you experimenting? Or are you just sleeping with Harry?”

“It’s only been Harry,” Louis admits, fiddling with her ring. “But I mean, it doesn’t have to be just Harry. We’ve never, like, put an exclusivity label on what we’re doing.”

“Yet you’re not making the effort to go out and sleep with anybody else.”

“Not right now, no.”

Jay stands up, kisses the top of Louis’s head, and picks up her empty mug. “Just something to think about there, darling,” she sing-songs, then heads out and towards the kitchen without another word.

Louis goes upstairs and lies on her bed, and stares at the ceiling for a long time.

She doesn’t think Harry is ready for more anyway, and even if she is, Louis isn’t sure she’s ready for the commitment either. After all, Harry was the one who initiated this fuck-buddy arrangement in the first place, and even though they’re always together, always kissing and fucking and sleeping in the same bed, it doesn’t seem like she wants more, at least not at the moment.

Harry’s her best friend, and really, she isn’t willing to do anything to jeopardise this friendship. Right now what they have is uncomplicated and it scratches an itch. And ultimately, they haven’t even known each other that long, so Louis doesn’t want to risk sabotaging something that doesn’t need to be sabotaged, because ultimately what she wants is to keep Harry in her life, regardless of whether they’re shagging or not.

Harry keeps her cards very close to her chest, and it’s only recently she’s started opening up, little by little. Louis doesn’t know much, because she doesn’t often talk about her life at home, but she does know that she has an older sister, Gemma, and one good friend from back home, an older bloke named Nick.

She also got the impression that Harry wasn’t super thrilled to be going home over Christmas, which Louis wants to press but doesn’t know if they’re at that stage yet. Harry hadn’t gone home once since term began, whereas Louis and the rest of the flat had all gone home a few times each. Again, none of them had pressed, but Louis is uncharacteristically worried about her being home for three weeks.

They’ve texted every single day just like Harry asked, but Louis misses her a lot and reckons they’d text every day regardless. She’s also texted Liam and Perrie most days, but that doesn’t mean she wants to shag or date either of them. It’s perfectly natural to miss all the gang; after all, they’ve been living practically on top of each other for months, and she’s used to having them around. That’s totally what this is.

They FaceTime a few times here and there, but Louis finds herself plenty busy in the week before her birthday. Her actual birthday is boring, as it always is, just a takeaway and drinks with her family and Stan, but Harry’s been blowing up her phone all day, telling her she has a special present for her tonight, ending her messages with lines and lines of winky face emojis.

Louis hopes this ends up being as kinky as she wants it to be.

“Who you texting?” Stan asks, nudging her playfully after she’s ignored yet another of his questions in favour of looking at her phone. “Your mum tells me you’ve gone and bagged yourself a hot girl.”

“I haven’t done anything of the sort,” Louis splutters, then steals one of Stan’s chicken balls out of spite. “I just… it’s one of my friends up there, okay?”

“A _friend_?”

“Yes, a friend,” Louis says primly, locking her phone and suddenly becoming very interested in her Singapore noodles.

She doesn’t look up from her plate to know her mum and Stan are exchanging looks over her head.

She doesn’t comment.

Once Stan’s headed home, she helps with the dishes and then sets up a mince pie and a carrot for the reindeer by the fireplace, then she kisses her mum goodnight and heads upstairs, almost giddy with excitement at the prospect of her birthday gift.

Something sexy over FaceTime is definitely what best best _best_ friends do for each other’s birthdays, right?

She shoots Harry a text to tell her she’s alone and in bed, then sets her phone on the side as she strips out of her jumper and leggings, settling onto her pillows in just her bra and pants.

Harry’s favourite bra on her, _definitely_ unintentional.

After a couple of minutes her phone starts to buzz with a FaceTime call, and she hits the Accept button with a great big smile on her face.

“Hi, babe,” she breathes.

“Hiiii,” Harry greets, drawing the syllable out. Her hair’s lying in loose tendrils around her shoulders, cascading down to artfully cover her bare chest. Louis grins even wider, feeling very much like the cat who got the cream. “Are you having a good birthday?”

“I am now,” Louis smirks. “Fuck, babe, look at you.”

“Do you like what you see?” Harry stands so her head is cut out the frame, but if Louis’s being honest she was never really focused on Harry’s face in the first place. “God, I wish I was there with you now. Wanna kiss you.”

“Same,” Louis whines, cupping her own breasts through her bra. She thinks about Harry straddling her thighs, kissing her neck, imagines it’s Harry’s hand there instead of hers. No beating around the bush tonight, and no pun intended. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.”

Harry’s wearing nothing but a pair of soft blue panties, a pair that Louis’s removed with her teeth numerous times. She must know they’re Louis’s faves. “Been thinking about your fingers all day,” she tells her, taking the pink pebble of her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and Louis watches it harden through the screen. “Thinking about what we’d be doing to one another on your birthday.”

Louis laughs, a little breathless. “I’ve got to be quiet, darling. The girls are asleep next door.”

“Have you got headphones?”

Louis grins. “You little genius, you.” She pulls out an old pair from her bedside table and plugs them in, one hand holding up the phone and the other just there, just a pressure, on her pussy. “Now be as loud as you want.”

Harry shakes her head and starts playing with her other nipple. “I keep thinking about spreading you out on the bed, kissing you all over,” she says, licking her lips. “Marking your tummy, your thighs. So sexy when you’re all bruised.”

“Mmm, keep talking,” Louis encourages, and she can feel her sticky dampness through the cotton of her underwear.

“I’d let you ride my fingers,” Harry continues, moaning a little. Louis slides her hand into her knickers. “I want to have you all spread out under me but I want you to be using me, doing all the work, getting yourself off using my fingers, _fuck._ ”

“Keep fucking talking,” Louis begs, thumb circling her clit. Her eyes drop closed and she lets herself imagine it’s Harry’s thumb, Harry’s hand, ready to slide a couple of fingers inside her. She opens her legs a little wider and takes a deep breath.

“I’d go slow, just at first.” When Louis opens her eyes Harry has a hand in her pants, lips parted, voice breathy. “I’d leave bruises like you like, tease your folds, maybe get my mouth on you a little.”

“Yes, _yes…_ ”

“I’d bite you, leave marks,” Harry continues, and it looks like she’s picked up the pace on herself so Louis follows suit, sucking her fingers into her mouth before she slides them down, just the barest hint of pressure on herself. “I’d play with your nipples too.”

“Lick them,” Louis commands, even though Harry’s nowhere near. “Please, Haz, your _mouth._ ”

“Yeah, I’d lick them, suck on them,” Harry says, then moans softly. “I’ll tease you good, Lou, just…”

Louis pulls a hand out from her knickers and brings it to her nipple, toying it between her thumb and middle finger. “Keep going.”

“Then I’ll get my mouth on your pussy, lick you out, _shit._ You’d smell so good, be so wet for me, I know how you get…”

Suddenly, Harry’s bedroom door swings open and then there’s shouting, and then the call disconnects abruptly, leaving Louis a little shocked and a lot disappointed. It’s almost funny, and Louis finds herself laughing despite everything, livewired and so close to the edge but she won’t be able to come even if she wants to, not until she gets Harry back on the line.

It did not sound like good shouting, that’s for sure.

It’s ten minutes of awkward silences and panting before Harry rings back. Louis answers it laughing, but the smile fades from her face when she sees Harry’s.

It looks like she’s been crying.

“Baby?” Louis says, sitting up and shoving her hair back.

“I, um, I have to go,” Harry whispers, hiding a lot of her face behind her hand. “I’m…”

She gets cut off by a shout somewhere behind her, and Louis can’t make out exactly what’s being said, but she thinks she makes out one word that sparks another bout of nervous laughter.

And from the look on Harry’s face she heard it too.

“Did someone just call you a whore?” Louis asks incredulously.

Eyes wide, Harry shakes her head frantically. “No, _no._ It’s, um, I’ve got to go and do my _chores_. Yes, that’s it.”

Louis blinks at her. “It’s eleven-thirty at night. On Christmas Eve.”

“I have to go,” Harry says again, and it comes out strangled. She hurriedly pulls her shirt back on. “I’ll, um, I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Please do,” Louis hurries to say, then offers her a small smile. “Miss you, Haz.”

“I miss you too,” Harry says quietly, and it sounds a little like she’s fighting back tears. Louis wants to question it, but before she can Harry waves, mumbles a goodbye, and then hangs up.

Baffled and a little worried, Louis tosses her phone onto her bedside table and rolls over onto her back. She rests her hand on her forehead and considers having a wank, finishing what Harry started, but it just doesn’t seem like the right thing to do.

She’s not even a little bit convinced that Harry left to do chores, and that worries her.

The next day is Christmas Day, and Louis rings Harry a total of nine times before she even contemplates getting out of bed. Harry doesn’t answer for ages, which makes Louis feel even more uneasy about it all, but when she finally does pick up it sounds like she’s smiling again.

“Merry Christmas, Lou,” she says softly, sounding sleepy. “What did you get?”

“Dunno, I’m still in bed,” Louis admits. “There’s a very real risk of a child jumping on me at any minute, but I wanted to speak to you first, make sure everything was okay after last night.”

There’s a pause. “Everything’s fine,” Harry replies, but she doesn’t sound fine. “Why, um, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Haz, don’t bullshit me,” Louis sighs, but before she can get any further Daisy and Phoebe both charge into her room in matching pyjamas, shrieking about the fact that Father Christmas has been. She takes a deep breath and smiles at them, then presses her finger over her lips, asking them to be quiet a second. “Look, I better go,” she says reluctantly, and she isn’t sure if she imagines the sad sigh she thinks she hears from the other end of the phone. “I’ll call you tonight though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, not meeting Louis’s eyes through the screen, and then, “have the best day with your family, Lou. Tell them Merry Christmas from me.”

“You too, babes,” Louis says, smiling. Daisy tucks herself under Louis’s arm and she cuddles her in. “Enjoy your day.”

“Who was that?” Phoebe asks, cross-legged at the foot of Louis’s bed, once Louis’s reluctantly hung up.

“Harry,” Louis tells her as she plugs her phone into the charger. “You know, my new best mate at uni?”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Daisy asks, looking up at Louis expectantly. Louis snorts.

“No,” she says flatly, poking at her sister’s tummy. “Come on, you. I thought Father Christmas had been!”

“He has!” Daisy shrieks, all mentions of Harry suddenly forgotten, and she scrambles off Louis’s bed and into the hallway, dragging her huge stocking to Louis’s doorway. “Come on, Lou, come down!”

“Louis, are you still in bed?” her mum’s voice calls from down the hall.

“Yeah, I was on the phone,” Louis shouts back.

“Oh? To your girlfriend?” Jay asks, and Louis doesn’t need to be in the same room as her to hear the smirk in her voice.

“Harry isn’t my bloody girlfriend,” Louis grumbles, but she obediently picks up her stocking and traipses down the stairs, then sets about distracting herself by fixing everyone croissants and smoked salmon for brekkie.

*

Once the Christmas holidays have ended and they get back to halls, Louis waves goodbye to her mum and sisters at the car and then lugs her suitcase upstairs, eager to unpack and see everyone again.

And by everyone, she means Harry.

Harry’s in the kitchen with Zayn and Niall, and Louis offers them a feeble wave before she presses Harry up against the fridge and snogs her senseless. Harry sounds surprised at first, but in seconds she’s got her hands on her shoulders, sighing into her mouth, smiling against Louis’s lips.

“Did you just sigh into my mouth?” Louis smirks.

“Did you know that we are still here?” Zayn says loudly. Louis laughs and wraps her arms around Harry’s middle, leaning back. “Hello, Louis, how was your Christmas?”

“Oh, it was fine, but it’s better now,” Louis grins. Harry noses at her cheek.

“Mine was fine too, thank you for asking,” Niall scoffs, throwing his hands up.

“How long have you been here?” Louis asks Harry, raising her middle finger in Niall and Zayn’s direction when they groan in sync.

“Since, like, 7 this morning,” Harry answers. “I got here early.”

“Jesus,” Louis says in disbelief, shaking her head. “What time did you have to leave to get here for then?”

“Couldn’t wait,” Harry says, and Louis smiles brightly, fondly, trying her best to look past the non-answer because she’s worried enough about Harry as it is.

“Wanna come help me unpack my stuff?” she says instead, then smirks. “And by stuff, I mean do you want to get me naked?”

Zayn and Niall both groan even louder.

“Yes,” Harry grins, eyes sparkling with excitement. Fucking hell, Louis’s missed this girl. “Let’s.”

Two hours later, Louis is playing with Harry’s hair as they lie facing one another, naked and sated and a little sleepy.

“Did you have a good Christmas then?” Louis hears herself asking, and fuck’s sake, she wishes she wouldn’t. The last thing she wants is to make things awkward here.

Harry, however, seems oblivious, and just keeps on smiling. “We spoke nearly every day, Lou, you know how my time was.”

Louis’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she mumbles, twisting a ringlet around her index finger. “Okay, good. I just… you didn’t seem like yourself, towards the end.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, reaching out and caressing Louis’s cheek, stroking over the apple before she kisses it, ever so soft. “I was just tired and bored and I wanted to come back.”

Louis doesn’t believe her, but the last thing she wants to start this term off with is an argument. “Alright, love,” she murmurs, then cups Harry’s face, pushes herself forward into her space, and kisses her hard, no tongue, just Louis on Harry. She can feel Harry’s eyelashes on the tops of her cheeks, her clumsy fingers trying to find purchase on Louis’s face. She pulls back and rests their foreheads together, and Harry chases her mouth, and they end up kissing for a lot longer than Louis intended to.

But it’s fine. Harry doesn’t seem like she’s up for doing much talking anyway.

“I should go and unpack,” she mumbles, punctuating her statement with a reluctant groan. “We’ve been in here hours, baby.”

“I know,” Harry grins, giggling. Louis shakes her head. “Okay, sure. I’m gonna crack on with my essay for a bit then.”

Louis nods. “Cool. Hey, what do you want for dinner?”

“Think Niall wanted to order takeaway when everyone was back,” Harry says, then giggles again. “Pez and Liam are probably back by now, to be fair.”

“Sick, so shall I come and knock on your door when we’re about to order?” Harry nods. “Awesome.” She pecks her lips again, just once. “See you in a bit, babe.”

Harry doesn’t make the effort to move while Louis is redressing, just lies on her bed and smiles to herself. Louis really should shower, but she can’t be arsed, not if all they’re doing is eating pizza together as a flat, so she disappears out of Harry’s room and into her own, where she unpacks her clothes and books. It doesn’t take her that long, especially not when she’s belting out Disney songs as she goes, and when she’s done she elects to go into the kitchen and make herself a cuppa rather than disturbing Harry and her essay.

The other four are all in the kitchen when Louis heads in, all sat on the sofas while an old film plays on the telly.

“Hiya,” she chirps, heading over to the sink. “Anyone else want a cuppa?”

Nobody answers, at least not straight away, and she furrows her eyebrows. It seems kind of tense in here, and it’s never been tense between any of them before.

“Guys?”

“I can’t,” Liam says suddenly, and makes a bolt for the door. Louis makes a noise of surprise.

“O…kay?” She doesn’t say anything for a bit, and nobody else looks at her, either focusing on one another or the floor. “Guys? Tea?”

“Louis, come here,” Zayn eventually coaxes, gesturing her over. Louis frowns, pours water in the kettle, and works deliberately slowly at getting her drink together. She snags a packet of crisps from the bottom cupboard and tears them open with her teeth, then very slowly ambles over to the dining table.

It’s mega awkward, and then Perrie goes and asks the last question Louis was expecting.

“When were you going to tell us you’re actually dating?”

“We aren’t dating,” Louis says, chomping through a mouthful of crisps. But the silence from the other three is deafening. “What? What are you all looking at me like that for?”

“You are dating though,” Niall says slowly. “Like, if you look at your actions and what the pair of you are doing together, it’s dating.”

“Don’t look at us like that, Lou,” Perrie says hotly as Louis’s frown deepens. “We aren’t joking here. You do everything couples do, except it’s, like, amplified.”

“We’re shagging,” Louis corrects, tying her crisp packet up into a little knot. Anything to keep her hands busy so she doesn’t have to look up. She can feel all their eyes boring into her and she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t get it. “I like shagging Harry and I think she likes shagging me. It’s good fun, she’s good fun, and I like being around her a lot. She’s my best friend and yeah, maybe it’s not super platonic but we like sleeping next to each other and kissing sometimes, for fuck’s sake. Is that what you want to hear?”

“You’ve just described a relationship there, Louis.”

Louis rolls her eyes. “Just because what me and Harry have is a little unconventional…”

Perrie slams her hand onto the kitchen table, making her jump about ten foot in the air. “Louis fucking Tomlinson, I swear to _god_ you are not this stupid.”

“What the fuck have I done?” Louis whines, shaking her head. “For fuck’s sake, will someone tell me?”

“Harry wants you to be a couple,” Zayn says bluntly. She hasn’t said anything in a while, and when Louis turns to look at her, her gaze is piercing. “She fancies you like mad, idiot.”

Louis snorts. “No, she doesn’t.”

Three sets of eyes blink at her.

“I’m leaving,” Perrie announces loudly, throwing her hands in the air as she stands up and moves towards the door. “I can’t listen to this ridiculous denial anymore. Get your fucking shit together, Lou, you’re doing my fucking nut in.”

“Are you really _that_ deep in denial?” Zayn says, sounding completely incredulous, then she too stands up and moves to leave. “You know what? I’m with Pez here. Fuck this, I’m out.”

She stalks out after her, flipping her long hair over her shoulder as she goes, and she tuts over her shoulder at Louis, who flips her off.

That leaves her with just Niall, who’s been playing with a loose thread on his trackies with his head bent.

“You’re still dating Harry,” he says finally.

“We aren’t dating,” Louis groans for what feels like the hundredth time. “We’re just having fun, alright?” Niall gives her a look and she throws her hands up in the air. “Oh my god, what? What do you want me to say? I do _not_ have fucking _feelings_ for Harry.”

There’s a sudden clang and a clatter behind them, and when Louis spins on her heel she spies Harry in the doorway, and then there’s a mug on the floor, shattered into pieces.

It could not have been more clichéd if she tried, and Louis has never wanted the floor to swallow her up more than she does in that moment.

“Harry…”

“Well, you don’t need to sound so _disgusted_ by the very idea,” Harry grits out, her voice wobbling like mad. Louis opens her mouth to reply, but no words come out. Harry’s glaring at her like she’s never been glared at before, and she wants to shrink away but she also wants to grab her and tell her that she’s wrong, that she didn’t mean it at all, that she’s got it wrong because she cares about her _so much_ …

“Are you really not going to fucking say anything?” Harry snaps, and it’s like someone’s dumped a bucket of ice cold water over her.

Because, yeah, there’s something she wants to say.

That maybe, just maybe, she’s a fucking idiot because she’s in love with Harry.

She’s in love with her.

Fuck. She _loves_ her.

“I…” she tries, but the words get caught in her throat. Because this _isn’t_ how this is supposed to go when you love someone; it feels like too big of a thing to yell in the heat of the moment, especially when she hadn’t realised it herself until about ten fucking seconds ago.

“Are you… you know what? Fuck _you_ , Louis,” Harry snaps, looking positively murderous. “Fuck you straight to hell.”

“Harry,” Louis shouts, panicked, brain suddenly catching up with her. She darts forward, trying to grab Harry’s hand. “ _Harry_ , wait…” But Harry snatches her hand back, curling it around her necklace instead.

“Do not follow me,” she instructs, her bottom lip wobbling and her eyes shiny with unshed tears. Then she steps over the broken mug and slams the kitchen door behind her as she rushes out of there. It happens so fast, and Louis doesn’t know what to do, so she just stands there with her mouth open and her hands shaking.

“Fuck.”

“ _Mate_ ,” Niall says, sounding just as stunned as Louis feels. “Mate, fucking hell. You fucked that up, didn’t you?”

“Oh my god,” Louis says, dumbfounded. “I… I’ve been dating Harry this whole time. And I didn’t even fucking realise.”

“Nice one, dickhead,” Niall says hotly. “What the fuck do you think we’ve been trying to tell you?”

Louis gulps. “Niall, I… oh, fuck. I’m in love with Harry.”

Niall rolls his eyes so hard that Louis’s almost surprised he remains standing. “Yeah, what else is new?”

“Niall,” Louis hisses, grabbing his wrist, fingernails piercing skin. He lets out a shout but she ignores him. “You don’t understand. I _love_ her.”

“You’re just repeating shit we all already know,” Niall snaps, then yanks his wrist free. “Harry’s been fucking in love with you since day bloody one. She worships the ground you walk on and you just…”

“I hurt her,” Louis says, and it comes out strangled. “Shit, I didn’t mean…”

“ _Go,_ ” Niall urges, practically yells. “Go and fucking sort it out, you twat. Because if you break that girl’s heart I swear to god the rest of us are going to fucking…”

“I would never,” Louis cries, horrified, then shoves Niall out the way and rushes to Harry’s bedroom, hammering on the door. “Harry? Haz? _Baby_ , let me in.”

There’s a pause, and Louis counts to 37 before the door opens, revealing Harry. She looks a bit of a mess; her eyes are red-rimmed, mascara staining the tops of her cheeks, and her hair is half-up, half-down. She’s glaring, clearly furious, but she’s still wearing Louis’s favourite Donny Rovers jumper and that… that has to count for something, right?

“What do you want?” Harry asks. “You here to tell me you don’t care about me again?” It sounds like she tries to make herself sound angry, but really, she just sounds exhausted. And hurt. Louis _hates_ how much hurt is in Harry’s voice.

“Can I come in?” she hears herself begging. “Please?”

Harry looks conflicted for a good few moments, then sighs and reluctantly holds the door open. Louis ambles in, nervous in a way she’s never been before, and hovers awkwardly by the wardrobe as Harry plops onto her bed.

“What do you want?” she says again.

“You,” Louis rushes out, and just barrels through what she needs to say before Harry can even think about interrupting. “I want you. All of you. In every single way. Shit, Harry, you’re _everything_ to me. Literally everything. I think about you all the time, I want to be with you all the time, I want to kiss you and hold you and take you home to meet my sisters and I want you to know that I’m _so_ fucking sorry, okay? I’m so stupid, I really am so fucking stupid. I genuinely didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” Harry asks hesitantly, voice quivering.

“I didn’t know this was what love felt like,” Louis finishes, offering her a sheepish smile. “What I was feeling after all of that was love. I want to be with you, Harry, because I love you.”

The silence that stretches after that moment feels like it lasts forever.

“Really?” Harry says eventually, her voice small and timid and so, so hopeful. Louis nods, frantic, wishing there were better words in the English language to convey how she’s feeling, because she just can’t seem to find what she wants to say. So she moves forward, ever so carefully, and dares to plop down on the bed next to Harry, and she takes a hand in hers, raises it to her mouth, and kisses over her knuckles.

Harry’s breath hitches.

She can smell salt on her breath, the honey from the lip balm she's constantly reapplying. Louis loves her so much she's almost dizzy with it.

"I do," she breathes, nudging her nose against Harry's cheek. "I do love you, Haz, so bloody much."

Harry's laugh is wet but bright, and she presses forward, hits Louis's nose with hers. "God," she moans, and Louis can't help but laugh. "I love you too. So, so much." A beat. “I think I have ever since you cuddled me like that after we first had sex.”

Louis wraps her fingers around the back of Harry's neck and rests their foreheads together. " _Fuck_. God, I love you too."

Harry sniffles and wipes at her eyes.

“And listen, I’m so, _so_ sorry about what I said,” Louis barrels on, stroking at Harry’s cheek, catching a stray tear. “I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t… I didn’t know what I was saying. I thought… you were the one who asked to be fuck-buddies in the beginning, and you said you’d never had a girlfriend either so when you didn’t press it further, well, neither did I. I didn’t even realise I was in love with you until Niall helped me realise, like, literally five minutes ago. I’ve been so _stupid_.”

“Yeah,” Harry sniffs. “Yeah, you have been.”

Louis rolls her eyes and smiles. “I know. But that’s okay because I love you and I ain’t taking it back any time soon.”

"We're going to be one of those couples, aren't we?" Harry hiccups, then looks down, tensing a little under Louis's hold. Louis frowns. "If that's what we are, of course."

"Couldn't let you go even if I wanted to," Louis admits, kissing whatever part of Harry is underneath her lips - her cupid's bow, it turns out. "Harry, sweetheart. I want this more than anything, I hope you know that."

Harry nods, breath stuttering on an inhale. "I feel the same," she mumbles, her fingers tightening from where they're gripping Louis's wrist. "But I... I don't think... I want this so much and I..."

"Hey, hey, breathe," Louis coaxes, smoothing over her hair and bumping herself closer along the mattress. "Hey, Hazza, it's okay. I know there's... I know this is a lot but I got you, I promise I've got you."

"It's not that," Harry whines softly, and lets Louis move her down so they can curl up together on the too-small mattress, hands locked over her tummy. Louis tangles their legs from behind and kisses the back of her neck, winds a hand into her hair, wants to find something that'll stop her from trembling, dammit. "Louis, I know you're not stupid, I _know_ you know."

Louis doesn't say anything, just presses her lips into the back of her neck again. The thing is, she _doesn’t_ know, not explicitly. She’s been sceptical for a while but genuinely concerned ever since her birthday. And she’s had the option to ask, even to do something as stupid as go through Harry’s phone if she wanted to, but it’s not her place. She wants Harry to be the one to tell her, to trust her enough.

But only when she’s ready. And Louis isn’t naïve enough to think that simply telling each other that they love each other is going to change that, but it’s certainly a step closer.

Clearly her and Harry are on the same page here, because the girl sounds so guilty when she speaks, so torn and confused and _desperate_ , almost. Louis squeezes her tighter, kisses her again and again, slow pecks behind the ear.

"If I have you, I don't think I can take you home," Harry whispers, so quiet that Louis is surprised she hears it over her thumping heartbeat. "And I don't know what that means for me, like, ultimately."

“Oh,” Louis says after a second, completely caught off guard. “You mean, like…”

“I mean like my grandmother won’t let you in the house,” says Harry, bluntly.

Louis inhales sharply. "What are you saying, Haz? What are you saying, like, for us then?" she says carefully, then pauses. "You don't seem to be pushing me away."

Harry groans softly, rolls over and tucks her face into Louis's neck. "I don't know if I could," she admits. "Push you away, I mean. Right now... right now I think you’re the best thing that could have come into my life, well, ever."

"Okay," Louis says slowly, tentatively, then gently rolls Harry over and tucks her face into the crook of her neck. She smells familiar and warm, and Louis wants to stay like this forever, without the tension, of course. "Then tell me what's wrong, Haz, please. I want to help wherever I can." Harry doesn't respond. "Harry. _Baby_ , you're worrying me."

"My family," Harry whimpers after a long pause, and those two little words are all it takes for Louis's stomach to drop, for her worst suspicions to be confirmed. "It's fucked up, Lou."

"Can I know?"

It sounds a little like Harry chokes on a sob as she stutters out, "I wanna be able to tell you, I really do."

"You can tell me," Louis assures, lips to neck. “I mean it when I said I love you. You’re stuck with me now, darling. And whatever you need, we’ll work through. That’s what good couples do, isn’t it?”

"I'm scared," Harry admits. "I've never said it out loud before."

Hands move up to fist in Harry's hair, and Louis kisses the side of her mouth once, twice, three times. "I love you," she repeats simply, clutching tighter as Harry burrows closer. "Are they... are your parents homophobic then?"

Harry shakes her head. "I don't live with my parents," she tells Louis softly. "My parents split when I was... when I was ten and then when I was twelve my..." She inhales, deep and shaky. "When I was twelve my mum got diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s."

Louis goes cold. "Baby..."

"My dad, he's... he travels a lot for work so he opted not to take me and my sister in," Harry hiccups. "So we went to his mum who... she's my _grandmother_ , Lou, I want to listen to her and respect her and stuff but she..."

"Harry, love, you don't have to continue," Louis starts, startled and worried at just how much Harry’s voice is trembling, but Harry cuts her off.

"My mum was mostly fine for a good couple of years but now... now she has a full-time carer and there's no way she could have looked after me through my teen years, no way. It’s manifested itself into full blown dementia now, so she’s… well. The last time I was there she kept calling me Lizzie because she thought I was one of the healthcare assistants at the home and asking when her daughter was coming to visit which... when she gets like that you've just got to roll with it, act like what she's saying is true and stuff."

Louis kisses her again. "I'm so sorry, my darling, I’m so, so sorry."

Harry shrugs weakly. "It is what it is," she says, unconvincingly dry, and pokes feebly at Louis's chest piece. And then, a little more quiet and a lot more heartbreaking, "I miss her so fucking much."

"Harry," Louis whispers, and fucking _hell_ , this was not how she'd anticipated telling her girlfriend that she loved her to go. " _Harry."_

"I know I can't change it, which is fine because most of the time I'm... I'm not _okay_ with it, but I've accepted it." She sniffs. "I told her I was gay when I was 17, and she... she just ignored me and asked me to pass her a custard cream. That was... hard. But it also felt kinda good, you know? I'd said it to her, and even though she can't remember, I've still told her."

"Yeah," Louis says blandly, unsure of what else to say. "Yeah, babe."

"I told Gemma next," Harry barrels on, only pausing briefly to readjust herself in Louis's arms. "Gemma was bloody brilliant about it. She's the best person I’ve ever known, she took it so fucking well. Asked me to move out of... of my grandma's house and live with her."

"And why didn't you?" Louis whispers, afraid of speaking too loud. She doesn't normally do quiet, but she will for Harry. She'd do anything for Harry, she thinks.

"I was seventeen," Harry says weakly. "She's still my legal guardian, she could drag me back. and even though she..."

"Harry," Louis interrupts carefully. "Harry, do you... do you not feel safe around your grandmother, is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Harry's bottom lip trembles, smearing wetly against Louis's cheek. She's not quite shaking but there's definitely an energy to her, a panic that wasn't there before Louis put this out in the open. "I don't know," she whispers, so, so quiet. "I honestly don't know anymore."

"Jesus," Louis mutters. She feels more out of her depth than she has in a _long_ time. "Can you explain?"

"I can try," Harry mumbles, "But can you just hold me for a bit, is that okay?"

Louis nods, kissing her briefly. "Yeah, course, anything you need." She rolls her back over so they're spooning, then rubs her nose over the back of Harry's neck. "I'm so proud of you for telling me, baby."

"I've never said it out loud to someone that isn't a therapist before," Harry admits lowly. "I've never told any of my friends in high school because, well, to be honest, I didn't have many. Nick was my best friend back then and he's older and gay himself, which my grandmother obviously didn't like."

Louis really isn't looking forward to hearing about this dreadful woman in detail. "So is that why uni was so important to you then?"

Harry nods. "It was my freedom card. My chance to get away and meet people and be the person I never got to be back home. I didn't expect for it to be so _gay_ though." Louis barks an unexpected cackle at that. "I didn’t expect to meet a _you_."

"Me neither," Louis tells her, still chuckling. "I didn't expect to fall in love like this so soon." And then, "you're one of a kind, Harriet Styles."

"Don’t call me Harriet," Harry tells her sardonically, and Louis grins wide and proud when she hears the smile in Harry's voice. "Fuck, I love you."

"I love you so much," Louis echoes, and suddenly she can't stand not to be looking at Harry's face so she rolls her back over and rests their foreheads together again. "Jesus, you're so beautiful."

Harry flushes a pretty pink and grins again, wide enough that it reaches her eyes at long last. Louis dips her thumb into her dimple and brings their mouths together sweetly, kissing her and kissing her until their lips are swollen and Niall is banging on the door for them to come and order pizza.

Once they're out of the room and their protective little bubble, Harry brightens up considerably, though Louis’s a little worried it’s just a front. She doesn't let go of Louis as they go into the kitchen and all squish onto the uncomfortable sofas, keeping their fingers threaded or her on her lap throughout the entire evening.

They don’t say anything, but they don’t need to. None of their friends are stupid, after all, so the fact that they’ve both come in with smiles on their faces and hands clasped between them is explanatory enough.

 _God,_ Louis feels like an idiot.

Harry feeds Louis some wedges and Louis uses her spit-damp thumb to wipe crumbs from Harry’s chin, and Liam calls them adorable and Zayn calls them disgusting and Perrie coos and Niall belches very loudly then steals the last piece of pizza of Louis's plate. Normally she'd kick off, but tonight her mind is elsewhere. It won't stop conjuring up the worst scenarios possible, the most unforgiving and heartbreaking scenes of Harry living at home with a homophobe playing over and over in her head.

Halfway through an 8 Out Of 10 Cats rerun, she finds herself jolting, an old memory playing over in her mind and hitting her like a drunk driver.

 _"What would you do if I kissed you?"_ Louis had muttered, breath hot against Harry's cheek in the dark, isolating surroundings of the club. The bass is heavy, but her heart was pounding harder. _"Would you kiss me back?"_

"I..." Harry had stammered, like a deer caught in the headlights, and Louis had felt apprehension and panic like never before, scared she'd misread the signs and fucked things up with her new housemate before Fresher’s Week was even over, but then Harry had darted forward and slammed their mouths together. Drunk and stunned, Louis had grabbed her face and kissed her back, but looking back she remembers the split second of utter panic in Harry's eyes, the confusion and the worry, and then the lust, the _want_ that had ultimately taken over.

And she was sloppy, which Louis at the time had chalked down to drunkenness, but now she wonders whether it was more inexperience.

Had Harry lied to her about being her first kiss? Her first fuck? Her first _anything_?

Harry's arm tightens around her middle, which snaps her back to the present day. "Baby, you okay?" she mumbles, just between them in the loud room. Louis nods and kisses her quickly, then turns back to the telly and tries to calm herself down.

It's only a lot later, when everyone else has long gone to sleep and they're both nestled together in Harry’s bed, covers up high to their chins as they kiss slowly, legs tangled and bodies pressed so close that Louis isn't sure where she ends and Harry starts anymore, that Louis asks the dreaded question.

"Baby," she hums, pulling away from the kiss with great reluctance and cupping Harry's face ever so lightly. Harry grins and goes in for another kiss, but Louis forces herself to stop her, to which she pouts. "No, baby, wait a minute. I have to ask you something."

"Kiss first, ask later," Harry tries, but Louis shakes her head.

"No," she sighs, and then, before she can lose her nerve, "Baby, did you lie to me about being your first girl?"

Harry goes rigid, stock still in her arms, and then before Louis can stop her she's pushing herself backwards and away from Louis. Only there isn't anywhere for her to go, and she nearly topples out of bed, but Louis snags her hand in the nick of time and pulls her back into her.

"I’m not mad," she's quick to clarify, and tries in vain to wrap her arm back around Harry’s shoulders. "Darling, hey. Seriously I’m not mad, please don't..."

"Why would you ask me that?" Harry asks, sounding thoroughly disappointed more than anything else. "Am I bad or something?" Her bottom lip trembles.

"No, Christ," Louis swears, already regretting opening her big fat mouth. "Haz, look at me. _Look_ at me."

Harry does, eventually, and Louis bundles her as close as she can. "I’m sorry," she eventually moans, rather mournfully, into Louis’s boob. "I didn't want to lie to you, I swear."

"It's _my_ stupid fault," Louis says, trying her best to be as tender as possible as she strokes her hair. "I'm the one that basically forced myself on you in that club, I just assumed..."

"You were my first real kiss," Harry blurts, her face glowing redder than Louis’s Man U bedsheets. "I fancied you loads from, like, the second I met you and you were so... you were in my space and you asked and I couldn't... how could I say no to you?"

"For the record I'm glad you didn't," Louis tells her, smiling softly. "I don't regret kissing you."

"I don't regret kissing you," Harry parrots. The flush on her cheeks is still bright. "I didn't mean to lie though, I swear."

"Can I ask why you did though?" Louis asks, keen to tread carefully. It’s definitely not a malicious thing, that much she knows, but she can’t help but feel a little hurt and a little concerned.

Harry shrugs awkwardly against the pillow. "Because you were so... you were beautiful and experienced and everyone is, like, drawn to you because you shine so bright."

Louis's heart lurches in her chest. "Harry..."

"And you kept coming back to me, which I didn't understand. but you did and I... I thought you wouldn't want to go out with a virgin. You wouldn't want to have sex with... with someone who hasn't had sex before."

"I don't care," Louis says, and it comes out strangled. "Haz, I only had sex with two people before you. I’m not a bloody sex addict. And you know what, I am so fascinated by you, that's why I was so drawn to you. You make me want to know everything about you."

Harry's face is positively magenta. "What do you mean?"

"You just... you're so unique and interesting," Louis says earnestly, and she means it. "There's something about you that makes me want to be around you all the time."

"Really?" Harry says tentatively, like she doesn't believe her. "But I'm not that gr..."

"You're _Harry,"_ Louis cuts her off and then kisses her fiercely. "My Harry. Great hair, great mind, great fingers."

Harry snorts an unattractive laugh. "A list in order of things you love about me?"

"I love every fucking thing about you that I've seen so far," Louis tells her. "It’s… I don’t love the fact that you lied to me but I don’t care because if that’s what it had to take to get us together then I’ll fucking take it. I only really care that I didn't get to give you the first time you deserve."

"It was pretty good regardless." Harry shrugs, but her tone is coy. "Look, please don't be mad at me for lying. I really didn't mean to, or want to."

"I'm not mad, but I still don't really understand it," Louis admits. She tucks a wave of hair behind Harry's ear and kisses her nose. "You didn't think I'd like you if I thought you were inexperienced?"

"Maybe, I..." Harry flounders a little. "It seems so daft now but I really wanted to impress you, I dunno."

"It _is_ daft," Louis says teasingly. "Because I'm pretty sure I couldn't have done anything other than fall in love with you, Harry Styles."

Harry preens and nuzzles forward, tucking her face into Louis's neck, pressing a tiny kiss onto her collarbone. "I love you, like, stupid amounts," she tells Louis, and Louis feels warm all over. “I'm pretty sure all I could do was fall in love with you too."

“Please don’t lie to me again?” Louis says, going for stern but well aware she sounds like she’s pleading. Harry nods furiously.

“I won’t,” she promises. “I was so dumb, I know I was, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

In a bid to shut her up Louis's mouth finds hers, and they kiss hungrily, like they’re starving for it, for each other. Louis rolls them over so she’s on top. She parts Harry’s legs and suckles on her neck, then pushes her knickers down, slides them off her legs with practiced ease, and then gently parts her folds. Then she slides two fingers inside her, teasingly slow. Harry gasps and clenches down, and Louis kisses down her body, bites at her nipples and dips her tongue into her belly button. She crooks her fingers in the way she knows Harry loves, then lowers her mouth onto Harry’s wet pussy and eats her out until she’s coming with a strangled cry.

She brings her fingers to Harry’s mouth and Harry sucks them in greedily, grinning dopily as Louis pulls them out and wipes them on the duvet.

“You’re so good at that.”

Louis matches her grin and pulls Harry’s arm around her shoulders, resting a hand on her chest. “I love the way you sound,” she tells her. “And the way you taste. Could eat you out for days.”

“I’d like that,” Harry says, still sounding very fucked out, and she nudges Louis’s forehead with her nose, seeking her lips for another kiss. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“Kiss me, then let me spoon you,” Louis says. “Tonight was about you, my love.” To punctuate her statement, a yawn follows her words. “I have filthy plans for you this weekend, however.”

Harry smiles into their goodnight kiss, and everything feels okay again as they settle down to sleep. They both have lectures tomorrow, but not until late morning so they can have a bit of a lie-in and a cuddle, and maybe even scrambled eggs and bacon on toast. Louis can’t wait.

That night, she dreams of a time and a place where she and Harry are safe and happy and in love.

She really hopes she can turn that into a reality one day.

*

They talk about it a lot, because Louis doesn't know an awful lot about this and Harry hasn't done any talking, not for a long time. They both skive their lectures the next day and drink endless cups of tea and hot chocolate, and Harry talks more than Louis's ever heard her talk, about growing up without a mum, about how it was a running family joke about how clumsy and forgetful she was until suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. She talks about how there's good days and bad days, but in the year before uni the bad had started to outnumber the good, and how she's been avoiding visiting her for a long time because sometimes it really is easier to forget.

Louis finds herself nodding a lot, wiping tears and kissing knuckles and dishing out cuddles aplenty. It's hard to hear all this, particularly because she really had no idea it was _this_ awful for Harry and her family. Harry chooses her words carefully when she talks about it, and Louis knows her well enough to determine there's definitely a good few bits of her story that she'll have omitted, but it doesn't stop her from listening, from caring, from wishing there was something she could do.

Harry falls asleep in the early evening, exhausted inside and out, and Louis tucks her up in a duvet mountain and kisses her forehead, then grabs her phone and retreats to the kitchen to call her mum, where she babbles for a good hour about how much she misses her and loves her.

Louis therefore decides not to press Harry about her grandmother until she's ready to give it to her herself, so she makes sure that life pretty much goes on as it did before, only now Louis gets to call Harry her _girlfriend_. The word alone makes her feel giddy, but now she relishes in being able to hold Harry's hand as they walk across campus, kiss her across the table in Costa, and love her every single night before they fall asleep in a tangled heap.

Their workloads pick up a little - Louis finds herself in the library more than she'd like and Harry spends all day in labs, coming out stinking of formaldehyde with god knows what staining her shoes. On weekends (and some weeknights, they're still students, _come on_ ) they go out clubbing or down the pub, and sometimes they'll go on little dates to the cinema or for dinner or to Harry's favourite place (the aquarium). Their friends still tease them about being disgusting and throw chips at them when they can't keep their hands to themselves in Nando's, and in all honesty Louis thinks she's the happiest she's ever been.

There's a morning in early spring where they sleep in late, and Louis wakes up before Harry for a change. The beds in their halls are slightly bigger than a single but not quite a double, so they always end up crushed together one way or another, and today, even though Louis went to bed as the big spoon, she wakes up with Harry facing her, an arm draped across her waist.

Her breaths are long and her hair is pretty much spread across both their pillows (Louis moved her duvet and pillow into Harry’s room about two weeks after they declared themselves girlfriends – she pretty much only uses her room as storage these days). Her lips are a little parted and Louis can feel the hot puffs of air leaving her nostrils as she brushes some of the hair back, her fingertips brushing lightly over the curve of her jaw, the soft skin of her rosy cheeks.

Louis loves her so much she can barely stand it.

Her affection for her grows each and every day, to the point where it feels all-consuming, like there isn’t a time in her life where she could go without her. When they’re apart she misses her, even if they’re just in lectures or catching up with other mates. When they’re together she’s fiercely territorial, has this overarching need to be beside her at all times, cuddling her, stroking her, anything really.

It’s probably (definitely) not too healthy, and they really are the source of all the flat’s teasing and laughter. But she really doesn’t care, because she’s finally got the girl of her dreams and she’ll do as she pleases, thank you very much.

And Harry doesn’t seem to complaining about it either, so she’s going to carry on.

They’ve recently signed for their second-year house too – a six-bedroom property not too far from the city centre, just a short bus ride into the uni every day, and the rest of the girls and the lads will be down the road, just six or seven doors away. Louis can hardly wait.

Back to now, she's pressed against the wall, and she has no intention of moving from this warm bubble any time soon anyway, but once she's up she can't easily drop back off. Having said that, she's not quite ready or willing to wake Harry, not yet, because she looks so beautiful when she sleeps.

One day Louis will count the eyelashes that rest on Harry’s cheek. One day she will suck a bruise into her skin as she sleeps, as a wonderful surprise for when she wakes up. One day she will wake her up with fingers inside her or a mouth on her, maybe on her birthday in a couple of weeks, just to see what kind of noises she can pull from her when she’s still tired and not quite with it. Louis can’t _wait_ for that one.

But today she’s content to just watch, to drink in this sight and commit every single unique and precious detail to memory. Having her girl like this, well, Louis doesn’t think there’s a prettier sight in the whole damn world, and she won’t hear a word against that.

It’s a little mad to her, really, how little has changed since she and Harry have made it official. They’re exactly the same around each other as they were before, and Louis really wonders how the fuck one can be dense enough to not realise you’re in love with someone when it feels this fucking fantastic to be around them. She wants to be around Harry all the time, she wants to make her laugh all day every day, she wants to kiss her and cuddle her and fuck her and love her and give her the whole entire fucking world, and two weeks ago she didn’t know that.

Because looking at her now, Louis doesn’t think there isn’t a thing she doesn’t love about Harry. She loves Sleepy Harry, sluggish and pliant and always clingy for a cuddle. She loves Passionate Harry, the Harry that’s going to make a brilliant vet one day, the Harry that would pet every single dog in the street if she could and the Harry that follows 26 separate cute animal Twitter accounts. She loves Excitable Harry, who can pick Louis up like she weighs nothing and charge her around the flat, ready to wreak whatever havoc Louis has come up with. And she loves Morning Harry, because she’s a vision under Louis’s garish bedsheets, all messy hair and ugly snores and warm limbs that wrap around Louis like a vine, anchoring them together.

There’s a morning in early spring where Louis sits and watches her sleeping girlfriend for long seconds and minutes and hours, and thinks about what it means to be in love.

If it had to be anyone, well. She’s certain she couldn’t feel this way for anyone else, not when there’s a Harry in the world.

Harry wakes up eventually, of course, and when she yawns, scrunches up her nose and kicks out her legs tiredly, booting Louis right in the shin, Louis doesn’t think she could be happier if she tried.

They stay in bed that day, skiving lectures and seminars in favour of simply talking to one another. It’s remarkable what Louis did and didn’t know about Harry, and they cover all manner of subjects, from pets to future plans to the universe and what lies across it. Harry’s so intelligent and passionate about so many different things that it’s a pleasure to engage with her, and just the way she talks about her future as a vet and how excited she is to meet and help loads of animals has Louis planting several happy kisses onto her mouth because she’s just that _cute._

She isn’t always cute, though. Sometimes she’s an absolute minx, which still totally catches Louis off guard. She drives Louis crazy in the best and worst ways, at the most _inconvenient_ times with the most inconvenient ideas.

Louis secretly fucking loves it.

The next week there’s a house party at one of the flats in the block, one of Jade’s coursemate’s flatmate’s birthdays or something, and they go all out, pre-drinking from the second they all finish uni and stumbling upstairs to this person’s flat later than planned. Bass thrums through their feet as they clip inside, and Louis’s drunk enough to pull Harry in for a messy snog pretty much the second the flat door has slammed shut behind them.

The music is loud, and it’s the kind of song that Harry loves to sing against Louis’s mouth as they kiss, wiggling her hips and letting her hands wander around her girlfriend’s body like they aren’t in a bloody public place.

 _Every time that you get undressed,_ _I hear symphonies in my head…_

Harry moves back enough to suck a mark onto Louis’s jaw, and Louis is _weak,_ doesn’t try to fight it. They’re both drunk but Harry is certainly the drunker of the two, and they don’t even bother to make small talk. Louis presses Harry against the fridge and turns around so her back is to Harry’s chest, and she lets her head fall back on her shoulder as arms snake around her waist and the music plays on around them.

_I wrote this song just looking at you…_

Harry’s hand travels up to the dip of Louis’s breast, fingers sliding underneath the curve of it, knowing _full well_ that Louis can’t wear a bra with this top. Louis knows she should bat her away but she doesn’t, and to be honest she wishes her hand would move a little higher.

_The drums, they swing low, and the trumpets, they go…_

Harry’s mouth is back on her neck, and Louis would honestly take her right here and now if they weren’t in a room with fifty odd strangers. She knows they must look a picture, and some people aren’t even pretending not to watch. She grins and spins, throwing her arms around Harry’s neck before she nips at her chin.

“Shall we fuck this off and go back to our room?”

Harry’s eyes darken, noticeable even under the low lights. “But you look so pretty,” she breathes out, her large hand sliding down to squeeze Louis’s arse through her skin tight jeans. “Wanna take you here, show everyone how pretty you are when you come for me.”

Louis laughs lowly. “Not happening, little love.”

“But I’m so wet already,” Harry whines, and even over the thumping sound system Louis knows some people will have heard that. Oh, well, let them. Harry’s hot as fuck, and Louis wants to make her come more than anything. Then a wicked idea springs to mind.

“Find us a room,” Louis suggests, a Cheshire Cat grin creeping up her face. “Find us a room and I’ll take you here.” She chuckles at how Harry shudders. “Won’t even need to get you naked, will I?” Harry whines into her ear and shakes her head. “Could probably rub you off now here, in front of the whole room.”

“Do it,” Harry groans, and she spreads her legs a little under Louis’s grip, and then, through gritted teeth, “ _Fuck me._ ”

“Find us a room,” Louis repeats. She moves her hot mouth to Harry’s neck, easily locating the spot she knows makes Harry weak at the knees. And then she pulls back, ignoring the way Harry arches forward and into her. She smirks and pats Harry on the bum. “Any room, I don’t care.”

Harry’s eyes fly open and she ignores Louis’s cackle as she grabs her hand and drags her into the hallway, where she tries the first door (locked), and then a second (also locked). She whines indignantly, which makes Louis laugh even louder. The third bedroom door, however, is blissfully unlocked, and they both stumble in and fumble to lock it. It’s a lad’s room – socks and shoes litter the floor and it smells like cheap boy deodorant – but it doesn’t stop Louis from pushing Harry straight onto the unmade bed and straddling her hips.

She pops open the button of her own jeans and shimmies them down her thighs while Harry bunches up her skirt around her waist. Lips find lips and Louis fists her hand in Harry’s damp, already matted hair, pulls her ever closer as they snog messily, filthily, unable to get enough of one another. She can smell Harry already, and she’s so wet herself that she doesn’t think it’ll take much to finish her off.

She snakes her hand down and, without preamble, pushes it inside Harry’s knickers. Harry’s as wet as she’d anticipated and she mewls, toppling forward a little, resting her forehead against Louis’s sternum as Louis works her hand quickly, thumb to clit and two fingers working at a sloppy but fierce pace, keen to get Harry off quickly and effectively. It’s not romantic in the slightest, it’s pure, unadulterated lust, and Harry comes with a shout in mere minutes.

Bringing her hand up, she feeds her wet fingers into Harry’s waiting mouth. Harry sucks, slurps, and licks around the digits, gaze low. Louis feels like she’s on _fire_. Their gaze never falters despite how drunk they are, and then Harry pushes her back against the bed, grinning dopily as she bounces a little up the cheap mattress.

“Spread your legs,” she commands, leagues off the desperate girl that Louis was snogging up against the fridge, and Louis complies, kicking at her jeans until they fall from her legs and onto the floor. Harry removes her knickers with her _teeth,_ slowly dragging them down Louis’s quaking thighs, and gets to work the second the air hits Louis’s desperate pussy.

Louis comes with a scream of Harry’s name, too drunk for a filter, and her entire body feels like it’s on fire as she comes down, a mix of alcohol and sex and thrill and _Harry._ Harry is better than any alcohol, more intoxicating without a doubt, and when she leans over to kiss the taste of Louis into Louis’s mouth she wonders why they ever bother leaving their bed at all.

They giggle and snigger when they realise the only thing they have to mop themselves up is dirty laundry, and when they stumble back into the party about half an hour later, toppling onto a slightly cracked dining chair, Louis in Harry’s lap, they don’t even try to deny it when Zayn groans “Al-fucking-ready?” then calls them a pair of slags. Niall throws an empty can at them.

As long as the lad whose room it is never finds out, right?

(He does. They don’t get invited back.)

It’s all their friends talk about for weeks, and a staple in Never Have I Ever for the rest of their university careers.

Things get even more entertaining in the flat one Thursday night when there’s a knock on Harry’s bedroom door at 3am. Louis gets up to answer it rather blearily, and Harry stays on the bed, knees up to her chest, concern written all over her face.

It’s only Zayn, but she barges in and flops down next to Harry without a single word, just a groan.

“Sure, Zayn, come on in, make yourself at home,” Louis grunts, not even bothering to stifle her yawn. Zayn rolls over and props herself up on her elbows, pulling a face.

“I did a bad thing,” she says with a wince. Now, Zayn is probably the least dramatic of their flatmates, so Louis immediately hurries over and takes her hand, squeezing, and braces herself for the worst.

“Oh?” Harry asks, nudging closer to the wall so all three of them can squeeze onto the mattress. “What happened?”

Zayn rests her head on Harry’s chest and sighs. “I may or may not have just sucked off Liam.”

Harry gasps and Louis lets out a sound that’s positively inhuman. “ _What_?”

“Keep your fucking voice down, bitch,” Zayn snaps, then groans, hiding her face in her free hand. “Fuck’s sake, what have I done?”

“Are you... drunk?” Harry asks tentatively.

“Not drunk enough,” Zayn whines. She shakes her head, her long hair smacking a still disorientated Louis awake. “Urgh, we went over to next door for a bit and they had a huge bottle of JD they were passing around and then suddenly I was in Liam’s lap and then we came back and he wanted to know if I’d watch Batman with him…”

“Kinky as _fuck_.”

“Shut up, Louis,” Zayn wails, but she’s laughing. “Anyway, I don’t even know who kissed who.”

“Did you get some vag action out of it at least?”

“ _Louis_.”

“What, Harry, it’s a serious question.”

“Do you like Liam, Zayn?” Harry asks instead, wrapping her arm loosely around her middle. “Like, are you attracted to him and stuff?”

Zayn pauses. “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” she says eventually. Then she grins. “He does have a wicked tongue.”

“Oh my _god_...”

Zayn shoves her, then the grin starts to fade from her face, her brows creasing in worry. “Does it fuck everything up if you start sleeping with your housemate though?”

“Was that a dig?” Louis asks, elbowing her in the stomach.

“Not really, but, like, you guys are an exception to the rule. You’re anomalies.” She buries her face back in Harry’s chest, and Harry starts to stroke her hair gently. “I like him a lot, I guess. But I don’t know if we’d be any good in an actual relationship, you know?”

“I’m no expert, but I can’t imagine that 3am is the best time to be mulling this over,” Harry says gently. “Do you want me to make you a cuppa?”

Zayn shakes her head. “Nah, I’ll be alright. Thanks, Haz.”

Harry nods. “Well, do you want to sleep in here with us?”

Zayn snorts. “Absolutely not. Last time I slept next to Louis she threw a leg over me and tried to grope me through my shirt.”

“We were pissed,” Louis says exasperatedly, throwing her hands up. “I thought you were Harry!”

“Exactly,” Zayn says dryly, scrambling forward towards the foot of the bed. She hops off and gives them both a fleeting wave, then slips out the door without another word. Louis snorts and pulls the duvet back up over her legs, curling back towards Harry’s warmth.

“Zayn is a strange one.”

“She and Liam would be cute together, don’t you think?” Harry grins, shuffling forward and sliding her hand into Louis’s. “ _Oh_ , how cute would it be then if Niall started going out with Perrie?”

“Alright, slow down, Cupid,” Louis warns her, then turns her head into the pillow to stifle her yawn. “One awkward flat relationship at a time.” She juts her bottom lip out, shimmying a little further forward. “’m cold.”

Harry pretends to tut but obediently draws Louis in, and after a lazy kiss they both fall asleep again.

The next morning Louis’s in a rush to get to her 10am lecture, so she leaves Harry sleeping away in their bed and hurries into the kitchen with her travel mug, keen to get some tea down her one way or another. She’s a little all over the place as she barges in, where Liam and Perrie are both eating cereal at the dining table, and she blurts, “Oi, oi, Liam, did you have fun last night?”

Liam chokes on his Shreddies.

Louis _really_ needs to work on this verbal filter thing.

“You know?” he grimaces, frantically wiping milk up with his sleeve. “What the fuck? How do you know?”

“Know what?” Perrie asks. “Oh, that Liam slept with Zayn?”

“We did not… what the fuck?” Liam says miserably, slumping in his seat. “How do _you_ know?”

“Zayn slept in my bed,” Perrie says simply.

“And you’ve been quiet about that for the fifteen minutes we’ve been sat in here together?” shrills Liam. He rubs his eyes with his fists. “Is she telling everyone?”

“I don’t know if she’s told Niall, but me and Haz both know,” Louis calls with a shrug over the hum of the boiling kettle. “If it’s any consolation, she came to find me and Haz because she wanted to find out how relationships between flatmates work.”

This time, Liam chokes on his coffee.

“Do you like her?” Perrie asks, crossing her arms. “Because you better, Liam Payne, because otherwise…”

“One of us will chop your dick off if you hurt her,” Louis proffers as she drops some toast into the toaster.

“Well, yes, but also it’s not the kind of thing she does very often and you know how hurt she was by that prick back in Bradford…”

“Well, of _course_ I like her,” Liam explodes, flapping his arms wildly. He’s gone a crazy shade of red, his eyes are wild and all over the place, and Louis and Perrie shut up immediately. “I’ve fancied her from basically day one of uni, _duh_.”

“Oh,” Louis and Perrie both say in unison, and then glance at each other, and then burst out laughing. Louis ends up abandoning her toast in favour of hurrying over to Liam and wrapping him up in a tight hug, hooking her chin over his shoulder and squeezing him almost painfully until he relents and hugs her back. “Good for you, Leemo.”

Liam sighs into Louis’s hoodie. “But… I dunno, guys, I’m worried. We’re _housemates_ , for crying out loud.”

Louis rolls her eyes. “Why is that everyone’s excuse when I literally crawled out of my housemate _and_ girlfriend’s bed half an hour ago?”

“You two are exceptions to all rules and you know it.”

Louis groans. “The same damn excuse again, what the fuck?” She lets him go and returns to her toast, ripping it into sections and eating it dry. Perrie wrinkles her nose and she flips her off. “Do you want to ask her out?”

There’s a pause, and then, “of course I do. But she’ll probably say no.”

“Why do you think that?” Louis asks as she pours her tea into her travel mug. She’s going to be so late, but somehow this feels more important than Contract Law. “You two would be lovely together.”

“She’s way out of my league,” Liam groans, shaking his head. “She’s so fucking beautiful, and I’m…”

“A handsome devil,” Louis finishes for him, then skips over, presses a fleeting kiss to his temple. “I have to dash, I’m so sorry, Li. But seriously, you’re in there. Think about it.”

She rushes out of there, reluctant to leave her friend when he looks so down, but she makes it to her class just before the doors closed, so that feels like a small victory at least.

She gets back to the flat two hours later, done for the weekend and keen to see if any developments have unfolded. She rinses out her travel mug and leaves it in the sink, noting there’s nobody in the kitchen as she goes, before she heads back to Harry’s room.

Harry’s awake but still in bed, a cup of steaming coffee by her head and her open book in her lap. She folds the corner down and flips it closed, managing to get it out the way in time to receive a lapful of girlfriend as Louis fires herself onto the bed, not even bothering to remove her jacket or shoes.

“Hi,” Louis says, smacking a kiss into her jaw. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Harry says, wiggling her legs so Louis’s sat more comfortably between them. She flicks the snapback off her head (Louis can never be bothered to wash her hair on lecture mornings) and rests her nose of top of it. “How was Contract Law?”

“Boring as ever,” Louis tells her. “Hey, have you seen Zayn or Liam on any of your travels this morning?”

“You mean, my brief walk from here to the kitchen and back again?”

“Yes,” Louis deadpans, rolling her eyes. “I saw Liam this morning and he was in a bit of a tizz, bless him.”

“Oh?” Harry asks, reaching behind her for her coffee. Louis lifts her head, not fancying getting scalded this morning. “About Zayn?”

Louis nods. “Thinks he’s not good enough for her,” she says sadly. “I told him that’s rubbish but he really likes her, Haz. I had no idea.”

“Neither did I,” Harry admits. “I’m surprised he opened up about it, bless him.”

“I kinda forced it out of him,” Louis winces. “Perrie was in there too, and she knows. Zayn spent the night in her room.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry whistles. “I hadn’t realised it was this much of a thing.”

Louis’s cut off from saying anything else by a knock on the door, but it’s not their door, it’s the door opposite, Zayn’s door. “Zayn?” a tentative voice calls, and Louis finds herself holding her breath. “Zayn, I know you’re in there.”

“Holy fuck,” Harry whispers. Louis nods and wraps one of her hands around Harry’s, biting her lip in that way she’s always telling Harry off for. But she can’t help it, not today. Liam sounds absolutely terrified, bless him, and it feels tense in their little room, and for fuck’s sake _where is_ _Zayn…?_

Then the door swings open, slamming against the wall, and both Harry and Louis jump. “Took you bloody long enough,” Zayn’s voice crows, then there’s a grunt and the wet sound of kissing, then the door swings closed with a loud bang.

Then silence.

“Well,” Louis says, dumbfounded, after thirty seconds or so. “That was easier than I thought it was going to be.”

“Yep,” Harry says, and they turn to look at one another, holding each other’s gaze for all of five seconds.

And then they’re laughing, laughing so hard and so loud that the little room is echoing with it, that Louis has to use every muscle in her upper body to stay upright and balanced on the bed. Harry’s coffee ends up all over the duvet, but they barely even notice.

*

Zayn and Liam come into the kitchen at dinner time, loose hands clasped between them and dopey grins on both their faces. The other four don’t say much, just hand them the takeaway menu and beam, but then Zayn’s jumper slides down her shoulder, revealing one of the biggest bruises Louis’s ever seen, and the laughter starts up all over again.

*

“Lou,” Harry whispers. There’s a warm nose against her cheek and cold feet pressing against her calf, and she hisses. “Lou, wake up.”

“I’m up,” Louis grunts, though she’s lying. Harry’s toasty warm, and if she shuts up she could very easily drift right back off. “Wassup, babe?”

“It’s my birthday,” Harry hums, nosing at her ear. Louis finds herself grinning despite the tiredness in her bones. “It’s my birthdayyy, I’m officially nineteen.”

Louis forces her eyes open, going a little cross-eyed when she sees just how close her girlfriend is. She moves a clumsy arm up and wraps it round her neck, huffing a laugh that turns into a yawn as Harry squeals and tucks her face into Louis’s neck.

“Hi, baby,” Louis whispers, then bites at Harry’s earlobe. “Happy birthday.”

She feels Harry grin, grip tightening around her middle as Harry cuddles closer. “Thank you,” she breathes. “This is gonna be the best birthday ever, I know it is.”

“Definitely,” Louis promises. She may or may not have a few surprises up her sleeve, but none that she’s going to tell Harry about now. “We can start by cuddling, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says – giggles – then adjusts herself a little so they’re both more comfortable; they lie face to face, arms draped over waists, lips finding lips every now and then. Louis almost finds herself dozing off again, but Harry whines and blows her morning breath right in her face, so she ends up crawling out of bed reluctantly so Harry can make chocolate chip pancakes and Louis can make tea.

Louis had the extremely arduous task of keeping Harry distracted last night so the other four could bake her a cake, and blessedly it’s waiting for them on the kitchen table. Their flatmates are also in the kitchen too, all crammed on the sofa clutching mismatched mugs, beaming as they watch Harry stroll through the door and then stop and gasp.

The cake is so lame – it’s iced pink and reads _Happee Birthdae Harry_ in green icing, like Hagrid’s cake in the Harry Potter films did. Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s waist, biting her lip as her girlfriend tears up.

“Happy birthday!” the gang all chorus, and Harry barely gets a hand over her mouth before she can stifle her sob. Louis laughs and hugs her tightly, then seconds later everyone piles on top of her. “We love you, Hazza!”

“You guys,” Harry weeps, turning her face into Liam’s shoulder. Her hand wraps around Louis’s wrist, squeezing. “Fuck, you _guys_.”

“What did you get?” Niall shouts. “What did Louis give you?”

“Haven’t opened anything yet,” Harry wobbles, shaking her head and sneering damp all over Liam’s grey jumper. He pulls a face and doesn’t comment, probably because he’s a little scared of Louis. “Aw, guys. I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even want to cut it, I love it that much.”

In true Harry fashion, she spends a good five minutes trying to capture the perfect Instagram photo. Louis uses that time to make them both big mugs of tea, which she sets on the side before she skips back into Harry’s bedroom to find the keys to her own bedroom, where she’s been storing all of Harry’s presents.

She checks her phone on the way, and as expected there’s a text from Gemma.

_Be there on time, train in just after noon so I’ll be with you half past-ish? Xxx_

Louis grins.

_Fab!! See you then!! Xxx_

She’s so excited she could burst. She’s going to make her baby’s birthday the best she’s ever had, and of course that has to include Harry’s favourite person. She’s yet to meet Gemma herself, but she nicked her number out of Harry’s phone once while she was in the shower, and asked her if she wanted to come up. She’d replied YES followed by a string of random emojis almost instantly, and they’ve been texting in secret ever since. She’ll be sleeping in Louis’s bed and staying for the whole weekend, and Louis can hardly wait.

Trying to contain her grin, she grabs the bag of presents that she’d awkwardly wrapped as sneakily as she could over the past week or so. It’s been expensive as fuck, getting all this together, and Harry has been bitching at her for weeks for picking up extra shifts when they could be, like, cuddling instead. But Louis has had this plan pretty much since the day she and Harry made it official, because after that conversation she gets the feeling that Harry’s birthdays haven’t been much fun over the years.

She isn’t sure if Harry remembers getting drunk a few weeks back and telling Louis she hasn’t had a birthday cake since she was twelve, but regardless she’s going to make this the best birthday she’s ever had. To her knowledge, her grandmother hasn’t sent her anything, and she doesn’t know much about Harry’s relationship with her father, but just in case she kind of went a bit (read: a lot) mad on ASOS and Oliver Bonas, and has sorted out nineteen presents in total.

From all four flatmates, Harry unwraps a huge bottle of gin, a choker, and a £40 gift card for her favourite vintage shop. She’s smacking kisses on everyone’s foreheads when Louis reemerges with her hands full.

“Oi,” she shouts. “Don’t start without me, dickheads.”

Harry’s eyes are watery again. “Lou, look.”

Louis already knew what they were giving her, of course, but she beams and nods at the gang approvingly. “Nice one,” she chirps. “Though soz, guys, but I think I’m about to outshine you.”

“Fucking hell, Louis,” Liam swears, eyes practically bugging out of his head as he clocks the bags in her hands. “What the fuck are you going to eat for the rest of the term?”

“Harry’s food,” Louis says dryly, then shoulders Harry back onto the sofa and plonks the biggest bag into her lap. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Harry glances at the bag and then looks up at her like she’s lost it entirely. “Have you gone fucking insane?” she croaks. “Like seriously?”

Louis tuts. “Just open your presents, darling. I’ve covered it.”

“Louis…”

“Harry,” Louis echoes in the same sarcastic tone, then moves the bag to one side so she can take Harry’s face in her hands. “Seriously. Happy birthday.”

“You’re a demon,” Harry tells her, but then her face splits into a dangerous grin, right up to her ears. “I fucking love you.”

“I love you too,” Louis says, then plonks down on the sofa next to her. “They’re all numbered, so you’ll know which order to open them in, by the way.”

“Jesus Christ, just fucking marry her already,” Zayn mutters from somewhere to Louis’s left. Louis flips her off.

Over the next half hour, Harry unwraps (to name a few) a leopard print jumper, two rings, a rather gaudy cup shaped like a pineapple, the latest 1975 album on vinyl, and some personalised Thornton’s chocolates. By the time she’s unwrapped everything, there’s paper all over the floor and no space for anything else other than the two of them on the sofa. The smile on Harry’s face is dazzling, and when she’s at the bottom of the bag she flings herself at Louis and kisses all over her face.

“I love it, I love it, I love it.”

“Hey, Lou? You know there’s only eighteen presents here, yeah?” Zayn tells her as she strolls around the living room with a bin bag. “Did you forget one in your room?”

“Nope,” Louis says cheerily, then smacks a final kiss onto Harry’s lips before she reluctantly stands up and moves away. She checks her phone and sure enough, there’s a text from Gemma from five minutes ago.

_Just leaving the train station, be about ten mins xxx_

“The final present should be arriving any minute now,” she says gleefully. “Honestly, any minute now.”

“Oh?” Harry says, intrigued, head moving from side to side like a meerkat’s. “Another delivery? Do you need to go down and sign for it?”

“Nope,” Louis says, then bites her lip and winks exaggeratedly. “Just you wait, baby. Just you wait.”

They needn’t wait longer, because only a few seconds later does their flat doorbell ring, and Harry lets out a confused sound. “Louis?”

“I’ll get it,” Louis sing-songs, then skips out the kitchen and down the hall. She can see Gemma through the narrow window down the side of each door, and she waves excitedly. Gemma waves back and when she opens the door they hug like they’ve known each other years.

“Oh my god, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Gemma breathes. She’s a lot shorter than Harry, blonde and well-dressed, and she smells like Louis’s mum. “How are you?”

“I’m so great,” Louis answers earnestly, because she’s so, so happy that Gemma’s finally here. “How are you, how was the journey up?”

Louis doesn’t get an answer, because behind her there’s a sudden scream, and then Harry is charging down the corridor and into her sister’s arms at record speed. “Gemma!”

“Alright, sis?” Gemma cackles, winding her arms around her taller sister’s waist and squeezing.  They hug for a very long time, and Louis steps back, leaning against the opposite wall, keen not to get in the way of such an intimate moment.

She can't help but wonder how long it’s actually been since they last saw one another. Harry talks about Gemma all the time, but when she does talk about her summers and the Christmas break just gone, it sounds like it was only her and her grandmother at home.

Gemma clearly adores her though; their embrace is tight and precious, but it also looks like they’ve finally come home after a long time away. Louis knows there’s a lot more to their story that she doesn’t know, but that’s okay. Today isn’t the day to think about it or dwell.

When Harry finally pulls back, eyes wet and bottom lip trembling, she yanks Louis into another tight embrace, burying her face into her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she hiccups, giving Louis a quick kiss on the neck. “I… just… thank you.”

“I love you,” Louis whispers, and that’s that. Harry mumbles it back, gives her a quick kiss on the lips, and then rests her head on her shoulder as she pulls back.

“My two favourite people all together,” she says with a happy sigh. “God, Gems, I…”

“You’ve got me all weekend, kiddo,” Gemma laughs. “And I think it’s time we celebrate, don’t you?”

“Definitely,” Louis hums. She toys with the lacey bottoms of Harry’s pyjama shorts. “Maybe we should change first though, what do you say?”

“I agree,” Gemma chuckles, and then, “how many of you live here?”

“Six of us,” Harry says. “Us two then the rest are in the kitchen.”

“Lunch for all of us in on me,” Gemma grins. Louis’s eyes go wide and Harry almost starts to protest, but they both get hushed. “Honestly,” she scoffs. “I haven’t seen my baby sister in ages and she thinks she’s getting away without being spoiled on her birthday? Not bloody likely.”

It’s a lovely offer, and Louis finds herself grinning even wider than before. “We’d better get dressed then, make ourselves a little more presentable.”

Harry nods. “Can I make you a coffee first, Gems?”

Gemma shakes her head. “I’m sure I can work my way around your kitchen, babe. Get yourselves ready and meet me in there when you can, I’m bloody famished.”

The pair nod and Louis grabs Gemma’s bag on an afterthought, carrying it into her bedroom. Once she’s remerged, she hands Gemma the keys and tells her which mugs are hers and Harry’s, then follows Harry into her bedroom to get dressed.

Not before Harry has practically thrown her against the wall and snogged her lips off, though.

It turns out that Gemma has been doing some Googling on her phone in the kitchen or something, because she leads the group to a lovely little pub on the canal where she’s already reserved a table, and orders a bottle of prosecco before they’ve even sat down. They all toast Harry merrily, and then tuck into huge plates of fish and chips and mushy peas.

Afterwards, the other four head back to the flat, agreeing to meet them a little later at one of their favourite, more local pubs for drinks with their extended friendship group. Harry, Louis and Gemma stay in town and do a bit of shopping, then get themselves a fancy coffee from Harry’s favourite study spot, a rather pretentious and expensive coffee shop on the high street, and then return to the flat to have a quick shower before they head back out.

Louis decides she really likes Gemma. She was a little apprehensive about the distance between her and Harry, especially over the Christmas period, but seeing the two of them together really makes her think that there’s a lot more to this situation than meets the eye. Gemma is hilariously funny; she’s a journalist in London, working her way up to becoming editor, and she’s got a cat named after Olivia Pope from Scandal and a screeching laugh that reminds her a lot of her sister’s. She’s gorgeous, witty, and has a fashion sense that Louis could only dream of, and it’s clear that even though they may not be that close geographically, there isn’t a lot she wouldn’t do for Harry.

That’s made crystal clear when she threatens Louis in front of the whole pub, telling her loudly and brashly that if she ever hurts Harry then she’ll rip her nipples off. Louis had choked on her pint and Harry had let out a loud, indignant squawk, and then Gemma’s face had fallen from stern to playful before she burst out laughing. Now they’ve been able to join forces in teasing Harry all afternoon, and by the look on Harry’s (slightly flushed) face she’s loving every second.

They get appropriately wankered at the pub that night, and even though they have to essentially carry Niall back to the flat they just about make it home in one piece. It’s late, so once they’ve deposited Niall in his bedroom and Perrie, Zayn and Liam have returned to theirs, Louis sets about making the three of them a cup of tea.

She sets them all on the coffee table, settles down on the sofa curled up next to Harry, and promptly falls asleep.

She isn’t sure how long she dozes for, but when she wakes up she’s rather uncomfortable, body curled and contorted at an angle it doesn’t like. She blinks her eyes open and finds herself, rather tragically, no longer in her girlfriend’s lap but facing the back of the sofa. There’s a blanket draped over her and she wants to find Harry, but then she hears voices behind her. She nearly rolls over, but decides against it when she hears her name.

“And you don’t think she really felt threatened by me in the pub earlier?” Gemma’s voice asks.

“Nah,” Harry replies, voice low in the dark room. “She’s got, like, six siblings herself. She gets the big sister thing, believe me.”

“Oh, bloody hell, that’s a big family,” Gemma remarks. There’s a pause. “And, um, have you decided where you’re going to live next year?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a house, all six of us,” Harry says. “It’s about ten or fifteen minutes from here.”

“Are you and Louis sharing a bedroom?”

“It’s a six-bedroom house, don’t worry,” Harry tells her with a little laugh. “I mean, we’ll probably share and then use one as storage but if it does, you know, go tits up then we’re not committed to sharing a room for the year.”

“Good,” Gemma says. “I’m glad you were sensible.”

Harry snorts. “We’ve only been officially together for, like, four weeks. We aren’t that stupid.”

Another pause, and then, “But you really love her, don’t you?”

Louis’s chest tightens a little in anticipation.

“I really do,” Harry sighs, and Louis can just imagine the picturesque expression on her face. “I didn’t think it was possible to care about another person this much, I really didn’t. But I do, I just love her. And she loves me.”

“Anyone with eyes can tell she loves you, dammit,” Gemma laughs quietly. “I’m really, genuinely happy for you, darling. If anyone deserves a love like that it’s you.”

“Yeah, alright,” Harry snorts, and Louis has to use extreme self-control not to roll over and shout how much she agrees.

“I’m serious,” Gemma murmurs. “No, I’m really fucking serious, Harry. You’ve had it rough and I… fuck, I can’t help but feel responsible, a little.”

“Um, how?” Harry asks incredulously.

“Because I fucked off first opportunity I got, that’s how.” Gemma groans. “I hate that you still live with that witch, I hate it, I hate it, I fucking hate it.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully I won’t have to anymore,” Harry mumbles. “The house we’ve signed for is open to us from the last weekend of July, so I’m going to move in then and find work here.”

“Yeah?” Gemma sighs gratefully. “Wait, when does your term end?”

“Well, in June,” Harry admits. “But I’ll have to go back home at some point and get the rest of my stuff, and then I was thinking I could stay with Lou? I mean, obviously I’ll have to ask her and I’ll pay my way because that’s only fair…”

“Hey,” Gemma cuts her off. “She’ll say yes in a heartbeat. I can’t imagine she wants you in that hellscape any more than I do.” Another pause. “You… have told her, haven’t you?”

Louis can just picture Harry’s grimace. “Ish?”

“Ish?” Gemma repeats. “What do you mean by ish?”

“I mean… she knows something at home isn’t right and she knows about Mum, but not about her.”

“You haven’t told her?” Gemma hisses. “What the fuck, Haz?”

“I mean,” Harry flounders, then groans. “I know I need to tell her, I know, but she’s just going to say the same as you and I’ve not actually seen her angry and to be honest, I don’t know if I want to.”

Louis almost snorts.

“And I don’t need another person telling me I’m making shitty choices by staying there because I already know that,” she continues. “And anyway, I’m getting out of there this summer, right?”

“Thank the lord,” Gemma mutters. “I love you Haz, but Jesus, you’re loyal to a fault sometimes. You should have moved in with me when I asked.”

“Gemma, I don’t want to argue about this again,” Harry pleads weakly. “And now is not the time to fight. Just… please.”

“You remember that night you rang me at Christmas? Michal was ready to drive up and I know you told me not to, so I stopped him and you know what? I regret it all the time, Haz, because she's a bitch, and you sounded so miserable.”

“Gems,” Harry starts, then there's a rustling. It sounds like Gemma has pulled Harry into her arms, which to be honest is all Louis wants to do right now. She hates how sad, how utterly defeated, her girlfriend sounds. “Fuck. Will it make things worse if I say I wish you had let Michal drive up?”

Gemma groans. “You little shit,” she tells her, then sniffs. “Promise me you won't go back there now you're out, Haz.”

“I have to get my stuff…”

“Then for fuck’s sake, take someone with you,” Gemma instructs. “Louis or Liam, I dunno. He’s a big lad. Will Louis fight her?”

“Probably,” Harry says with a weak laugh. “Yeah, alright. I just… feel bad. She's still our grandmother and Dad promises, he always promises…”

“Dad is a dickhead,” Gemma says hotly. Louis almost snorts again. “Honestly, Haz, he is. I know it's hard, and I know how much you love to see the good in people because I fucking love that about you, but those two are a waste of space. And in the eyes of the law you're not their problem anymore, so please. For me and my sanity. Just…”

“Dad isn't as bad as you're making out, Gems.”

“He lets that woman call you all kinds of slurs in front of him and doesn't defend you,” Gemma snaps. “What the fuck kind of a father is he?”

“I think he just kind of… went into meltdown when Mum was sent away,” Harry mumbles. “I don't think he's coping well.” She sniffs. “He tells me I remind him too much of her sometimes.”

Gemma growls. “That isn't an excuse to be a prick to you. Fuck, I can't stand either of them.”

“Gemma, can we… I don't want to talk about this anymore,” Harry tells her.

There's a sigh. “You're right, I’m sorry. It just… it angers me so much, Haz. So much.”

“I know,” Harry says tiredly, weakly. “It’s not my favourite thing either.”

“Come here,” Gemma coaxes, and Louis hears her kiss her cheek or her forehead, she isn’t sure. “God, I love you, Haz. And I miss you, you know.”

“I miss you too,” Harry says, sniffing. “Hey, I’m going to go to bed, okay? I’m so tired.”

“Yeah, same,” Gemma says. “You still good to go for pancakes in the morning?”

“Course.” Louis hears her stand, then there’s some rustling and the sound of the tap running for a second, so she fixes her eyes closed and pretends to be asleep again until she feels a hand on her shoulder, shaking gently. “Love?”

She pretends to wake up slowly, taking a deep breath before she lets her eyes flutter open, focusing in on Harry’s upside down head. “Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi, baby,” Harry says softly, grinning. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Louis nods and rolls over, then slowly gets to her feet but she falls into Harry for support. Harry winds an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “How long was I asleep?” she asks, not even faking the yawn that escapes her halfway through the sentence.

“No idea, to be honest,” Harry tells her. “But we’re off to bed, me and Gems.”

Louis blinks at Gemma, who’s currently tidying away all the mugs from the draining rack. “Yep,” she says as she closes the cupboard. “I was just saying to Haz that pancakes for breakfast is a shout, what do you think?”

“Ooh, yeah, lovely,” Louis grins. She yawns again. “Shit, I’m sleepy.”

“Come on, you,” Harry says, steering her towards the door. She flicks the lights and kisses the top of her head before unwinding herself from her, ambling over to hug Gemma goodnight.

“Happy birthday, Haz,” Gemma mumbles, voice muffled by Harry’s shoulder.

“S’not my birthday anymore,” Harry chuckles, then kisses Gemma’s hair. “Sleep well, Gems.”

“Yeah, you too. Night, Lou. Lovely to meet you today.”

“And you, Gems,” Louis says, making grabby hands for Harry again. “Enjoy my bed.”

Gemma snorts and waves, then disappears into the room. Harry winds an arm around Louis’s waist and walks them into their room, locking the door behind her. Louis’s half-tempted to collapse onto her bed, but a thought struck her earlier and she wants to know whether or not to play it out.

Harry smiles at her girlfriend and moves over to her, wraps her arms around her shoulders and nudges their noses together, kisses her sweetly. Louis’s hands cup her cheeks and she presses them closer together, kissing her harder, faster, turning it dirty.

Harry gasps into her mouth and she moves back, allowing Louis the opportunity to latch onto her neck, suckling on the soft skin there, scraping her teeth over the spot she knows makes her weak at the knees.

She pushes Harry onto the bed gently, then kicks off her shoes and crawls onto the mattress behind her. She moves her waterfall of curls to one side and starts to mouth at her neck again, cupping at her tits through her shirt. Harry gasps once more, breathy giggles falling from her lips, and her body arches into the touch.

Louis moves her top up and Harry obediently moves her arms above her head. Her bra goes next and Louis can’t resist moving in to kiss her before they go further, wet little pecks that let them both know where this is going.

“What do you want me to do to you?” she muses, ghosting her fingertips over Harry’s chest, her knuckles over her nipples. Harry throws her head back and Louis takes it as an invitation to crawl further forward, lying her down on the mattress and kissing over every single bit of her. She takes her time with it, dipping her tongue into her collarbones and leaving marks with her teeth, before she wraps her lips around her nipple and sucks, _hard._

“Lou,” is all Harry offers, hands scrunching up in her hair. Louis grins.

“You’ve never had birthday sex before, now, have you?”

“S’not my birthday,” Harry mumbles, but it doesn’t hold much flack, not when she’s arching up to meet all of Louis’s touches like this. Louis kisses down to her sternum, drags her lips across the warm ridges of her body, then chances a look up as she flicks her tongue out, laving over the soft rise of Harry’s breast.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Louis whispers into her skin. She moves her thumbs over the nub of each of Harry’s nipple, feels them harden under her touch, and she leans in to kiss her once again. Harry gasps into her mouth, her body moving of its own accord with every touch, pushing forward into Louis’s welcome hands. “Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever known.”

“Lou,” Harry whispers, pupils blown.

“Play with your nipples for me, there’s a good girl.” Louis reluctantly lets go of Harry’s tits in favour of pulling her own clothes off, jumper, t-shirt, bra, then jeans. When she looks back up Harry’s licking her lips, gaze dark, but she’s doing as she’s told. “God, yeah, keep doing that. You look so good.”

“I wanted to undress you,” Harry pouts. Louis grins and shakes her head, then shucks her pants and socks in an awkward movement, doing an awkward dance as she tries to keep her balance.

“Whoops.”

“Sexy,” Harry tells her, and Louis laughs and wiggles her hips, and while she’s not quite a lap dancer the way Harry stares at her is enough to make her feel like one.

“I’ll show you sexy,” Louis warns, darting forward to reclaim Harry’s mouth once more. They kiss for a long time, hot and filthy, before Louis turns her attention back to Harry’s nipples. She presses Harry against the mattress and kisses back down her body, then takes the hard bud between her lips and sucks, _hard._

Harry’s moan is loud and positively _filthy_. Louis lets it fall, hard and red, from her mouth and she smirks before moving over to the other. Harry shudders, legs spreading ever wider, and she moves one hand down to tease at her folds, hot and slick. “Fuck,” she moans, arching her body high, and Louis’s other hand goes to steady her at the waist.

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on you.” She pulls off the other nipple and flicks her hair to one side, then wraps a hand around the back of Harry’s knee, spreading her wider, and moves her hips a little higher up the bed. She smells amazing, hot and heady, and Louis licks her lips unconsciously as Harry positions herself a little higher, up on her elbows.

“Louis,” she begs, and Louis doesn’t want to wait anymore; she moves down and presses her face into the hot heat of Harry’s pussy, pursing her lips and letting them drift over the soft mound of her pubic hair. Harry whines, her cunt flexing visibly as Louis rubs her fingers over her lips again, and she falls flat back onto the bed with a gasp.

“You taste like liquid gold,” Louis mumbles, tongue flicking out, craving that familiar taste. Then she licks a fat stripe through the centre, just to tease. Harry moans again, louder this time. “Fuck, this pussy…”

Hands tangle in Louis’s hair and Louis nudges forward, closer to where she knows Harry wants her attentions. Her clit is hard and swollen under Louis’s tongue, her slick sweet and musky and wonderfully familiar, her folds slick and smooth. She eats her out almost gently at first, her tongue working through Harry in long, flat circles, before she picks up the pace and sticks her tongue in between her fingers, savouring the way Harry’s breath hitches before she moans, long and broken.

One finger becomes two, two fingers becomes three – Harry’s so wet the slide is smooth and easy – and she works her through it, tongue and lips working mercilessly as her fingers curl upwards, all heat and pressure and Louis and Harry and…

“ _Oh,_ fuck, _fuck,_ ” Harry wails, tightening like a vice around her fingers as she jerks, her whole body spasming as she comes, comes, comes…

“Harry, baby,” Louis moans around her, suckling on Harry’s oversensitive pussy as she comes down from her high, before she starts to quiver and flinch, too sensitive to carry on. “Fuck, you’re amazing. So beautiful when you come for me.”

Harry slides her hands out of Louis’s hair and uses her foot to nudge Louis up, and Louis goes easily, willingly, keen to let Harry have a taste of herself on Louis’s tongue. Harry flings an arm around Louis’s neck and they kiss long and languid, only breaking when Harry starts to laugh.

“What the hell,” Louis asks as she pulls back. There’s a string of spit connecting their mouths that Harry bats away, still giggling. “What you laughing for?”

“You’re humping my leg, babe,” Harry titters, cupping Louis’s cheek. Then she snakes a hand between Louis’s legs, fingertips rubbing over the throbbing cunt. Louis whines, biting her lip, and tucks her face into Harry’s shoulder. “This okay?”

“Really?” Louis laughs, breathless, and nips at Harry’s earlobe. “Of course it’s okay. I think I might die if you stop, actually.”

Harry parts her folds and slides two fingers inside her, smoother than a knife through butter, crooking them. Louis whines. “Hey,” Harry murmurs, kissing Louis once, just once, “Want you to ride my face.”

Louis jerks, almost dislodging herself from Harry’s lap with how fast she nods. She shuffles upwards, rearranging her clumsy, gangly legs over Harry’s chest, her labia parting as she spreads her thighs apart. Harry grins and wraps her arms around the backs of them, coaxing her forward, mouth open already.

“Eager,” Louis teases, but she knows how she must smell, must feel. She’s been gagging for this all day.

“Can you blame me?” Harry says, breathy, flicking one of Louis’s arsecheeks. “I really want you to sit on my fucking face, c’mon.”

Louis knee-walks up the mattress and spreads her legs as wide as she can before she slowly, carefully, lowers herself onto Harry’s fucking face.

The first lick shouldn’t come as a shock, but it does.

Harry eats pussy like she’s starving, the most enthusiastic partner Louis’s ever had in bed without a doubt. The strokes of her tongue are long and broad, enough to make Louis gasp and fuck down, but she knows that Louis can’t stand being teased for too long so soon enough she’s moving her hands, one on the small of Louis’s back and the other holding Louis open, open enough for her to push her tongue deep as she can into Louis’s hole.

Louis’s desperate for it and she fucks Harry’s face in the way she knows she loves, tight circles of her hips, and Harry’s head moves in time with her thrusts. Louis’s palms are sweaty where she’s resting them against the wall for meagre support, and she’s going to come any minute now, any second now, she’s burning from the inside out, Harry’s tongue and mouth and the way she moans driving her closer and closer to the middle of the fire; yellow, orange, red, _blue._

She near screams as she comes, hands sliding down the walls and head thrown back. Her thighs are trembling so much she barely manages to shuffle back down the bed, and she gracelessly collapses on top of Harry with an _oof._

 _“_ I think ‘m dead.”

Harry snorts. “Best birthday present ever,” she breathes, licking her lips and then wiping her mouth on the duvet. Louis wrinkles her nose, too fucked out and sticky to even contemplate moving ever again.

“Thought it wasn’t your birthday anymore.”

“It’s not,” Harry admits, then she yawns. “We always were a little unconventional though, weren’t we?” She drapes an arm over Louis’s waist, pulls her in even though she’s absolutely disgusting, kisses the top of her hair. “Thank you for the best birthday ever, by the way.”

“You’re welcome for the best birthday ever,” Louis hums, mouthing at her collarbone. Harry smiles, whispers “I love you”, and then draws Louis’s red raw mouth up to hers and kisses her until they fall asleep.

Harry cries in the middle of the train station when it’s time for Gemma to leave, and Louis finds she gets a bit teary-eyed herself. Both sisters seem reluctant to let each other go, but when they do Gemma moves straight over to Louis, arms outstretched, and Louis topples into them without a second thought.

“Thank you,” Gemma whispers, kissing her forehead, “for being everything I never knew my sister needed.”

“That’s okay,” Louis mumbles back. She is _not_ going to _cry._ “She’s in safe hands with me.”

“I know,” Gemma murmurs, and Louis can feel her smile against her cheek. Then she pulls back and beams at them both. “Thanks for letting me crash, darlings. I’ll miss you both.”

“Come back soon?” Harry asks. “Stay longer next time, if you can.”

“I can’t wait,” Gemma nods. “I’ll definitely come and visit when you’re in the new house, too.”

“We’d love that,” Louis says. “Have a safe journey back. Text one of us when you’re home, yeah?”

Gemma nods, grabs her suitcase, and then smacks a final kiss onto each of their foreheads. “Bye, darlings,” she coos one last time, then steps onto the train with a final fleeting wave. The train doors close a few moments later, then the whistle blows, and Gemma disappears from sight.

Harry turns her face into Louis’s shoulder and Louis tightens her arm around her waist, kissing the crown of her head four times in quick succession.

“You okay?” Louis asks her, steering her off the platform and towards the exit. Harry nods, standing up straight, and Louis pinches her hip. “Good.”

“Home?”

“Home.” They walk hand in hand down the street, shivering a little in the late winter cold. “Hey, I really like Gemma, you know.”

“Me too,” Harry chuckles. “No, but in all seriousness, I loved this weekend. Thank you for doing all this for me.”

“Any time,” Louis says, trying and failing to sound breezy. They both know how important this weekend has been for the both of them, for their relationship, and she squeezes Harry’s hand, who squeezes it right back. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Harry says back, and with bright smiles and chilly noses the pair head home.

*

February rolls on slowly, a month with the occasional deadline but mostly days spent plodding along, revising, cooking, drinking, laughing, fucking. It’s still cold but spring is definitely in the air, and Louis’s getting excited for picnics and barbecues, for shorts and crop tops, for ice cream in the park and sunbathing and chilling, and pretty much just a summer holiday in general.

March is a little more turbulent, and brings along their first major blow up fight. It’s possibly one of the worst days Louis’s ever had in her _life_ and she never wants to relive it, not only because of the fight but also the shit show that occurs afterwards. Louis wants to cry every time she so much as thinks about it, which is a _lot,_ and even though everything is _fine_ it’s definitely not fine.

Not between her and Harry, that’s for sure.

The night starts as normal - Louis and Harry buy a bottle of vodka to split between them, Harry ends up drinking most of it, and by the time they head out she’s absolutely hammered. Louis’s genuinely surprised she makes it into the club she’s that pissed, but they all get inside and Louis heads straight for the loo with Perrie, slipping a fiver into Harry’s hand for her to head to the bar and get them all drinks.

They’re not in the loo long, maybe ten minutes, just long enough to touch up their make-up and take some cheeky mirror selfies for the ‘gram. They shove their way out, giggling at something inane, but the smile quickly slides from Louis’s face when she spies Harry at the bar, arm thrown around some random (extremely beautiful) girl’s shoulder, and it looks like she’s whispering in her ear.

“What the fuck?” she shouts, turning to Perrie. “Do you see…?”

“What the fuck?” Perrie echoes, eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline. “Is that Harr-?”

“Don’t,” Louis says, and she bites her lip, her hands curling into fists unconsciously. She watches from the sidelines as Harry throws her head back in a laugh and then goes back in to whisper something in this girl’s ear, and the girl grins and accepts two drinks from the bartender, then hands one over to Harry. They clink glasses, and then disappear back into the crowd and out of eyeshot.

She may as well have just punched Louis right in the face, that’s how it feels.

“Maybe it’s someone off her course,” Perrie supplies unhelpfully. “Or a friend from back home.”

“I don’t know,” Louis croaks, shaking her head. “I don’t… I…”

“Hey, Lou,” Perrie says, wrapping her in a hug. “It’s fine, like, it’s not a big deal. Look, it’s like what I’m doing to you now, isn’t it?”

“No,” Louis says, because they both know it isn’t. “Perrie, I…”

“Hey, who’s the girl with Harry?” Liam’s voice questions, then he appears at Louis’s side, wrapping an arm around her back. “Lou? Shit, babe, what’s…?”

“I don’t know,” Louis says again, and it comes out strangled. “Fuck, look, you don’t have to… she’s not cheating on me, you don’t have to hug me like this.” She shakes them off. “Shall we… drink?”

Perrie sighs but nods. “Sure,” she says, nudging Louis towards the bar. She chats at Louis a mile a minute as she always would, but Louis barely registers it. Her mind is elsewhere and she feels anger bubbling in her belly because this… she just doesn’t get it.

It’s not that Louis thinks she has that much of a claim over her, not at all, but they’re both drunk and it’s a sense of _betrayal,_ almost, because she was supposed to buy Louis a drink and now she’s off, Louis forgotten, while she flirts with someone else.

“Should I go over there?” she asks, cutting Perrie off mid-sentence. “Is that too much? Am I overreacting?”

Perrie gapes at her. “Can you see them?”

Of course she can see them. Louis hasn’t been staring anywhere else for the past five minutes.

“I’ll find them,” she says, going for breezy and definitely falling short. “Here, get me a beer, will you?”

She pushes her way through the crowd before hearing Perrie’s reply, over to the overstuffed sofas in the corner where Harry and this _bitch_ are looking at something on Harry’s phone.

“Hi,” she says loudly, and Harry looks up and beams, then stumbles a little as she gets to her feet.

“My Lulu!” she shrieks, then barrels forward and nearly topples over. Louis’s arms snake around her middle just in time to steady her, and Harry smacks a sticky wet kiss onto her cheek in thanks. “Hey, _hey,_ where did you go?”

“To the loo,” Louis says flatly, and then, “who is this?”

“This?” Harry points to the girl, who doesn’t look all too impressed at Louis’s arrival. “This is Josie. Say hi to my Lulu, Josie.”

“Your Lulu?” Josie parrots. “What, are you her flatmate or something?”

“I’m her girlfriend,” Louis deadpans, and her heart sink when she watches this Josie girl’s eyebrows shoot up. Clearly this is brand new information to her, which only serves to make Louis angrier. “Thanks for looking after her while I went to the loo but I’ve got her now.” She drags Harry off, ignoring the way she wriggles in her arms, towards the back of the club where they can stand. When they get there she immediately untangles herself from Harry and takes a step back. “Okay, what the fuck, Harry?”

“What the fuck, Louis?” Harry snaps right back, adjusting her dress where Louis’s grip had bunched it up. “Why did you pull me away like that? Like physically dragged me out of there? That was so embarrassing!”

“Why were you off flirting with someone else?” Louis shoots back, not even bothering to hide the quiver in her voice. “And don’t pretend you weren’t okay? You were hanging off her like you’d hang off me.”

“Or Zayn or Perrie or any of our other female friends,” Harry hisses, hands on hips. “It isn’t that deep, Louis, what the hell?”

“It is that deep and you know it,” Louis shouts, throwing her hands up in the air. “Where’s my drink? Where’s my fiver?”

“Is that what this is about? Money?” Harry opens her clutch bag and yanks the note out. “Here.”

“ _Harry,_ ” Louis growls, exasperated. “Don’t be fucking _thick._ ”

“ _What?_ Don’t call me thick,” snarls Harry. “Literally what the fuck is your problem, Louis? It was one drink, one conversation.”

“Was it?” Louis snaps, and she’s so drunk and so is Harry, and she honestly doesn’t even know who is being the most unreasonable here. Although it’s Harry, _definitely_ Harry. “What would you do if I went and draped myself over, like, that girl over there?”

“I don’t know, trust you enough not to snog her?” Harry yells with a stamp of her foot. “Do you not trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s other people.” She watches out of the corner of her eye as that Josie girl stands and moves towards the loos, which just serves to rile her up even more. “I fucking love you, Harry, and this is something I don’t want you to do, okay? This is a boundary in our relationship I’m not comfortable with you crossing.”

“And you’re telling me this now, what, to justify this shitty row?” Harry looks positively thunderous. “Seriously? What the fuck happened to use what God gave you to get shit or whatever you used to say? It was a _drink._ ”

Louis’s mouth drops open. “We hadn’t even fucking kissed when I said that to you! We’d known each other two fucking days!”

“Yeah, but that’s still you, Louis, and I wouldn’t expect you to not do that just because we’re fucking!”

“We’re fucking,” Louis repeats, tone flat. “Wow, okay. I thought we were in a loving, committed relationship, but clearly I was wrong. Do whatever the fuck you want, Harry, see if I fucking care.”

“You are being so fucking unreasonable,” Harry yells after her as she spins on her heel and heads towards the smoking area. Anything else she shouts is drowned out by the heavy bass of the music. She storms outside, fingers shaking as she hurries to unzip her bag and pull out her packet of cigarettes, and she hastily lights one up, the burn to the lungs welcome and familiar.

She smokes it down to the filter and then lights up another, then another. She knows she’s going to regret this in the morning but she doesn’t want to stop, so she doesn’t.

Everyone else in the little courtyard gives her a wide birth, and she’s glad. She doesn’t remember ever being this angry, and she thinks that after this cigarette she’s going to find a taxi and go home, and then sleep in her own bed for once.

But just as she’s about to head inside, the smoking door area slams open and a frantic Niall and Liam appear. “Louis?” they both call, and she walks over to them slowly. “Oh, Jesus, Louis, thank god. We thought you’d gone home.”

“No,” Louis grumbles, toeing her cigarette out. “I’m about to though.”

“Don’t,” Niall rushes out, just as Liam yells, “Harry’s been spiked.”

That's the second time it feels like she's been punched in the face that night.

All the blood drains from Louis’s face and she goes stock still, rigid with panic. “What?”

“Harry’s been spiked,” Liam repeats and _fuck,_ it sounds like he’s about to cry. Louis’s never seen Liam cry. “She’s in the loos with the others and fucking hell, Louis. It’s bad.”

“She’s not stopped being sick and she’s shaking and crying and…” Niall cuts himself off when Louis slaps a hand over her mouth, but it doesn’t do much to stifle her sob. “Pez and Zayn are with her but she’s, like, begging for you.”

“Where is she?” Louis asks, voice wobbling, and she’s grateful that Niall takes her by the hand and leads her because she can barely hear herself think over her racing heartbeat, the billions and billions of nerve endings inside her standing on edge because _Harry’s been spiked. Someone spiked her Harry._

They push through the throng of people and arrive at the loos with a bouncer outside, talking into the walkie talkie on her vest. “You can’t go in here,” she instructs, raising a hand and halting the three. “There’s been an incident.”

“A spiking, yeah?” Liam asks, and the bouncer narrows her eyes but nods. “That’s our flatmate, Harry.”

“I’m her girlfriend,” Louis stammers, voice hoarse. “Please can I go in, please, _please,_ I need to see her.”

The bouncer looks her up and down, but eventually opens the door, thank god. “Oi, Lucy, we got her girlfriend out here, I’m sending her in.”

A second female bouncer comes to the door and nods, gesturing them through, and Louis practically runs over to where Harry’s sat on the old, uncomfortable sofas that line the far wall of the ladies, propped up by Zayn on her left and Perrie on her right. There’s a washing up bowl in her lap and Louis hears and smells the sick before she’s even reached her. She sinks to her knees, hands resting on Harry’s thighs, and tries not to burst into tears.

“Harry, sweetheart, I’m here,” she coos. “I’m here, baby, I’m here, I’m so sorry, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

Another retch and another stream of vomit, and then Harry lets out a strangled sob. “Louis,” she croaks, barely coherent. “ _Louis._ ”

“I’m here, darling, I’m right here.” She turns to Zayn and wipes at her eyes. “Thank you,” she mouths.

“Any time,” Zayn mouths back, grip on Harry tightening as she goes to be sick again. Louis bites her lip, _hard._ She will not _cry_.

“Where did you go, Lou?” Perrie asks, awkwardly trying to rip tissue one-handed from a toilet roll to dab at Harry’s mouth. “You were there and then you…”

“For a smoke,” Louis says, grabbing the toilet roll. She rips off a few sheets, which she hands to Perrie then uses a couple more to wipe at her own eyes. “I was gone for ten, fifteen minutes, max.” She drops back down and continues to stroke at Harry’s legs. “Good girl, good girl, let it all out, there we go.” She turns to the bouncer. “Can she have water?”

The bouncer nods and goes to retrieve a cup, and Louis stands up and hurries to empty out the bowl in the sink before Harry needs it again. She sluices it with warm water and takes a couple of seconds to compose herself, deep breaths in and out, before she returns it to Harry’s lap and sinks back to the floor, rubbing soothing circles into her legs.

Vomit, drink, rinse, repeat. Vomit, drink, rinse, repeat.

Louis has no idea how long they’re in there for, but eventually there’s nothing left in Harry’s stomach for her to vomit. She slumps against Zayn and starts to cry, and Louis moves the bowl to one side and stands up, encourages Harry forward and into her arms, taking the brunt of her weight.

“I’ll call a cab,” Perrie says quietly, then disappears. Louis barely notices, too focused on the sobbing girl in her arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” she repeats again and again, peppering light kisses into her hair. “I’ve got you, love.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry wails, then hiccups. Louis gently coaxes her back down onto the sofa and reaches for the tissue, mopping Harry’s eyes and nose with it. “I’m so sorry, Louis, I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, it’s not your fault,” Louis assures her, then cups her face between her hands. “Are you in pain? Do you think you’re going to be sick again?”

Harry hesitates and then shakes her head. “I’m tired,” she mumbles, using a very shaky hand to rub her face. “I don’t think there’s anything left for me to be sick.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Louis says, brushing hair from Harry’s face. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

She thanks the bouncers and then winds an arm around Harry’s back, Zayn on Harry’s other side, and the two of them help Harry stand up and walk out of there. They get some funny looks from other clubbers but Louis parts the crowd easily with a glare, and when they finally make it out to the front of the club Perrie is stood there between Niall and Liam, a six-seater taxi waiting for them.

Louis climbs in first and guides Harry in, buckling her in next to her and coaxing her to rest her head on her shoulder. She falls asleep pretty quickly, hand in Louis’s lap, and Louis brings it up to her mouth and peppers it with kisses.

“Who did it?” she has to ask, voice quiet over the thrum of the engine. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know, Lou, I didn’t see,” Niall answers softly. Liam shrugs too. “Where were you?”

“We had a fight,” Louis replies, and this time she does start crying. “We had a fucking fight because she was hanging off this girl who I didn’t know and then she…” She presses her hand over her mouth, hard, and Zayn, sat across from her in the cab, rubs at her knees. “I swear to god if it was that bitch that did this, I swear to fucking _god…_ ”

“Hey, _hey,_ there’s no use in you getting worked up when none of us actually know,” Zayn says gently. “You’ll drive yourself mad otherwise, babe, and that won’t do you or Harry any good.”

“But she got fucking _spiked,_ ” Louis sobs. “She could have…”

“She could have, but she didn’t,” Perrie tells her. “Me and Zayn found her pretty quickly and took her to the loos, where she started to make herself sick because she knew something wasn’t right. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Wait, she made herself sick?” Louis asks incredulously. Perrie nods.

“Yep. She’s a smart kid, our Harry, she…”

“She made herself sick,” Louis repeats, which only serves to make her cry harder. “I am the worst girlfriend in the whole fucking world, I swear to god. I stormed off, why did I storm off?”

“Babe, you cannot blame yourself for this,” Perrie says, soft but firm. “I know how upset you were and if you had a fight… well. You couldn’t have anticipated this, anyway.”

Louis shakes her head. “I feel sick.”

“Almost home,” Liam says, reaching for his wallet. “Here, you guys get her upstairs and I’ll pay for this.”

“Thank you,” says Louis, voice scratchy. She unbuckles herself and then Harry, gently shaking her with gentle touches to her sides. “Baby. Baby? Come on, wake up for me, darling.”

Harry grunts and jolts awake, nearly toppling forward. Louis catches her, as does Niall, and together they help her out the cab and up into the building, the lift, and then into their flat.

“Is your guys’s room unlocked, Lou?”

“No,” Louis says with a shake of her head. “Take her into my bedroom. My bed has clean sheets on it and if she’s gonna be sick again then it’s not on our shared stuff.” She rifles in her pockets for her keys and tosses them to Perrie, who dutifully unlocks the door, and then she helps guide Harry in and sets her on the edge of the bed. “Harry, babe? Can you hear me?”

Harry looks half-asleep again, eyes rolling back in her head before she manages to focus them on Louis blearily. “Lou,” she mumbles. “‘M so tired.”

“I know, sweetheart, I’m gonna put you to bed now,” Louis says, combing a strand of matted hair between her fingers. “Can you drink some more water for me, do you think?”

Harry nods clumsily, and Louis hears the door to the ensuite bathroom open and the sound of the tap running. A few moments later Zayn hands Louis a cup, and Louis bends a little so she can bring the cup to Harry’s lips.

Obediently Harry drinks, and then once she’s had enough she flops backwards onto the mattress and starts snoring. It’s almost comical, and Louis would laugh if she wasn’t still so freaked out.

“Hey, I’m gonna put her to bed now, I guess,” Louis says quietly, then plops down on the bed and moves to untie Harry’s shoes. “Could one of you go and grab the washing up bowl from the kitchen and could one of you grab some of my shit out of Harry’s room?”

“Sure,” Perrie and Niall say in unison, and both disappear out the door. Louis wrestles Harry’s shoes and socks off, then drapes a towel over her middle to at least give the semblance of dignity to her before she pulls her dress up and off, leaving her just in her pants and her bra.

She’s still asleep when Niall returns with the washing up bowl and Perrie comes back with an armful of pyjamas and toiletries. She’s still asleep when the flat wrap Louis up in a tight group hug, and she’s still asleep after they leave and when Louis undresses herself and cleans her teeth and washes her face. She carefully peels back the duvet as best she can and opens her legs into a wide V, rolling Harry between them and snuggling her against her chest. She never wants to put her down, never ever again.

She doesn’t think she’s going to get any sleep tonight, but then again she’s so tired she manages to hold that thought for a total of twelve minutes before she conks out.

When she wakes up the next morning the muscles in her legs are _killing,_ but there’s a dead weight on top of them stopping her from stretching them. She blinks her eyes open and in an instant last night comes flooding back to her like a tidal wave crashing over her. Harry’s curled up against her chest, blinking up at her with big, sad eyes still caked in last night’s make-up.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Louis breathes, then twitches her legs again. This time Harry rolls off of her towards the wall and lets her stretch before she lets herself be gathered back up in Louis’s arms and squeezed. “Shit, Harry. _Shit._ ”

“Why are we in here?” Harry says slowly, tongue sounding heavy in her mouth. “Why are you… have you been crying?” She pauses and reaches up to touch Louis’s face. Louis’s fucking fuming with her, but she sinks into the touch, eyes fluttering closed and then open again, tears clinging to her lashes. “Are you crying now? _Shit._ ”

Louis _is_ crying now, and she buries her face in Harry’s shoulder and weeps. Harry lets out an odd sound and scoops Louis up into her lap, cradling her head protectively against her chest as Louis just cries and cries.

She’s not even sure why she’s crying now, because Harry’s clearly fine and it’s over now and they don’t ever have to go back to that club or anything like that. But she still doesn’t want to put her down, not now, not for the rest of the day, not _ever._

“What’s going on?” Harry asks rather desperately into her shoulder. “Louis? What’s happened? You’re freaking me out, babe.”

“You… you…” Louis stammers, words a mess. “ _Harry._ ”

“Did we… did we have a fight?”

Louis nods, wipes her eyes on the duvet, and rests her forehead against Harry’s. “You can’t remember?” Harry shakes her head. “You can’t remember anything?”

“I… remember playing Ring of Fire with everyone before we got a cab,” Harry says slowly, carefully. “After that…”

“We had a fight and then you got spiked,” Louis blurts, and Harry goes rigid in her arms and they both stare at each other for long minutes. “Okay, I… guess I better explain.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, voice barely there. Louis really doesn’t want to do this. “Yeah, I think you should.”

*

They don’t talk about it. It hangs over them for days on end, and they just… don’t talk about it. It’s fine.

Except it’s not fine. It’s really not fine, because Louis feels like it’s eating her alive. She can’t stop seeing the way Harry lay there on that sofa, unable to support her own weight, crying, being sick, _hurting._ Louis doesn’t think she’s ever going to forget it.

Harry, however, has completely forgotten it, it seems. After Louis’s explained her side and cried it all out, Harry gives her a fleeting apology and then disappears into the bathroom, where she stays for close to an hour. Louis goes and uses Harry’s shower and when they reconvene in the kitchen to make tea and toast, they don’t talk about it.

They’ve been really good at not talking about it ever since.

They skip uni for the rest of the week, and while they still spend almost all of their time together as they usually do, it’s clear that it’s tense and awkward in a way it’s never been before. And because it’s never been like this before, neither of them know how to snap out of it.

It’s really starting to get on Louis’s tits.

In fact, it takes them a while to get back into being _LouisandHarry_ after it happens, which Louis knows is dumb and mostly her fault, but she’s still freaking out, just a little. Things have shifted between them, and it’s really shitty for a long few days and nights, and funnily enough it takes another night out to bring them back together.

It’s one of the university’s termly Big Night’s Out, as they call it, and this time the theme is fictional characters. Louis had gone shopping with Perrie and the girls next door to find a costume, and after several stupid hours trying on anything and everything she’d settled on going as Poison Ivy, because even she’s ready to admit she’s a little predictable.

(Look, the colour of the wig really brings out her eyes and the catsuit hugs her tits _just_ so. She feels like a million dollars in it.)

It’s Thursday, which is Harry’s long day in lessons so she won’t get back to the flat until six at the earliest, and everyone is supposed to be ready and waiting at the student union by seven. Louis cooks them both some chicken and chips and leaves Harry’s plate in the oven on a low heat, feeling a little guilty it’s not the best meal to line your stomach with before a night of heavy drinking.

This is the first night out either of them have been on since it happened, and Louis hates that she’s already on edge as she showers and puts on her costume. She hasn’t started drinking like the rest of the flat have (it’s not that she plans to stay sober, she just… isn’t ready to drink, not yet), and she realises belatedly that she has no idea if Harry even has a costume herself. They haven’t really spoken about tonight at all, the lingering hurt and awkwardness from their last night out still plenty fresh for both of them, and she finds herself blinking at her reflection, tired and confused and sad, as she waits for her girlfriend to come home.

Then there’s a knock on her door.

“Lou?” Niall calls, then opens the door uninvited anyway, grinning like a maniac. “Hey, _sexy_.”

Louis rolls her eyes. “Fuck off, what do you want?”

“We’re heading next door for pre-drinks,” Niall says, then swigs from his can as if to emphasise his point. “Where’s Hazza?”

“Still in class,” Louis says, shrugging. “She hasn’t texted me to say she’s running late or anything so I’m assuming she’s on her way.”

Niall stares at her. “Are you two… okay?” he asks tentatively, opening the door wider so he can lean against it.

Louis sighs and fights the urge to rub at the eyes she’s just spent 15 minutes applying make-up to. “I guess?”

“You guess,” Niall deadpans. “You _guess._ ”

“Yeah, alright, dickhead, no need for that.”

“Hey,” Niall tuts, moving in to just flop on hers and Harry’s bed. “I’m only asking because I care.”

Louis groans, blinks back the tears that feel like they’ve been waiting there for days. “I love her, and I’m still so angry at her,” she says, biting her lip. “I hate that this happened because it’s not… it’s so shit, Ni, and I’m mad but I feel like I don’t have the right to be because she… she…”

She doesn’t want to finish her sentence.

“It is so shit,” Niall nods. “But it happened, and she’s fine. And maybe, Lou, maybe you need to tell her you’re still angry.”

“I feel so petty…”

“It’s not petty,” Niall says with a shrug. “I saw your face out there, Lou, you were so… I’ve never seen you look like that. And if you’re still upset about it you need to tell her.”

“It just feels so out of character,” Louis mumbles, turning back to the mirror and reaching for her eyebrow pencil. “I never thought Harry would do that to me.”

“Do what to you?” Harry’s voice says and oh, _shit._ Louis spins on her bum and stares, not having heard the door open, and looks up at Harry. Harry looks tired and grubby, as she usually does after a long day working with the animals, but today she’s also got an icy stare on her face. Louis watches Niall stand up awkwardly out of the corner of her eye. “Were you… talking shit about me to Niall?”

“Pre-drinks!” Niall says loudly, looking desperately from Louis to Harry and back again. “Pre-drinks, Haz, next door whenever you’re ready.” And then he scarpers, slamming the door behind him.

“I…” Louis says, getting to her feet. Okay, so they’re really about to have this fight now then.

Harry puts her bag down and takes off her jacket, rolling up the sleeves of her jumper underneath. Louis smooths down her costume, moves to the other side of the room, and licks her lips.                                                

It begins.

“Why the fuck were you talking to Niall about me like that? Behind my back when you haven’t even mentioned this shit to me?” Harry asks, voice dangerously low.

“Because I feel like I can’t talk to you right now, that’s why,” Louis snaps, and they’re off.

“You feel like you can’t talk to me?”

“Because you don’t want to talk!”

“How do you know I don’t _want_ to talk if _you_ won’t talk?”

“Because I know you, Harry, and you’ve always been a fucking open book when it comes to me, but this? We both know it’s you that fucked up here, but you don’t want to admit it, so you won’t talk.”

“I fucked up?” Harry shrills, throwing her long hair over her shoulder. “I got fucking spiked, Louis, tell me how that’s my fault.”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault you got spiked, _Jesus._ ” Louis wipes her mouth on her wrist. “I’m saying there were two parts of that night, and we had a fight and then you fucked off and then you were…” Louis still won’t finish the sentence. “And we still haven’t finished that fight, have we? And I’m angry, Harry, I’m so fucking angry.”

“We were drunk!” Harry shrieks. “It was one drink from one girl, I didn’t fucking snog her!”

“I never fucking said you did!” Louis yells. “But it upset me and I was right fucking there. Did you not think it would upset me for you to flirt with a pretty girl like that?” Hot, angry tears leak from her eyes and she hurries to wipe them away. She is _not_ ruining her make-up over this.

“I’m not saying what I did was right but you’re making me feel like such a piece of shit,” Harry says, hugging her arms around herself. “I have felt so awful since that night and I feel like you’re too angry at me for me to make this right.”

“Well, then fucking say something to me,” Louis snaps, _begs._ “I feel like shit too, Harry. I watched you flirt with some other girl and then you were…” More tears. “Can you imagine if the situations were reversed? Can you? Imagine you had to see me like that, yeah? I’d fucking…”

“I would _hate_ that, fucking _hell,_ ” Harry jumps in frantically. “You mean fucking everything to me and it was one drink, one mistake, like…”

“It feels bigger than that and we both know it,” Louis growls. “This is huge, Harry, and it’s the kind of shit that breaks up relationships that have been around a lot longer than ours.”

It’s harsh and it’s cruel, and Louis wishes she felt better about the fact that Harry looks like she’s just been punched. But it’s not the knockout Louis wanted when she stepped into this ring, it really isn’t. She didn’t come here to break up with Harry. She didn’t even come here to fight with Harry. But this has been crawling under her skin for so long, niggling at her for days and nights, and regardless of whether she wanted this screaming match to happen or not, she needed to get it off her chest.

“What are you saying then?” Harry asks, a lot quieter this time. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“That’s not what I want,” Louis says, frustrated. “I want to talk, Harry, not scream. I want to get this sorted because I fucking love you, like, so much, and it would fucking shatter me to lose you.”

“Me too,” Harry rushes out, frantically wiping her eyes. “I never ever set out to do anything that would bring us to this point, I wouldn’t ever…”

“Then why did you?” Louis snaps, because this, _this,_ is the crux of it all. “Why did you go and push your tits out like that and why did you let a stranger touch you like I would? I would never do that to you, ever. Especially not in fucking eyeshot.”

“I don’t know,” Harry whimpers, shaking her head. “She… she called me pretty, and it’s like, I’m still getting used to being out and accepting compliments like that from strangers and stuff. And I was drunk and I was…”

“Would you have kissed her if I wasn’t there?” Louis has to ask, and her heart is racing at a hundred thousand miles an hour but she can’t not ask this question.

Harry looks horrified. “What the fuck? No, _never,_ never ever ever, _Jesus._ I just…” She chokes on a sob, and she sounds so genuinely distressed and disappointed in herself that Louis almost reaches for her. Almost. “I just like knowing that people think I’m pretty.”

Dumbfounded, Louis fishmouths at her for a second before she asks, “Do I… do I not tell you enough?”

Harry shakes her head wildly. “No, shit, no, that isn’t it.” Her shoulders slump and she looks so _young._ “It’s just… I have you, my girlfriend, and that’s so great because I love you so much and it means the world to me because I never thought I’d find someone like you. But… Louis, fuck, I have, like, no confidence in myself.” Her eyes shine with tears as she mumbles, “I don’t want to fight with you. I hate fighting with anyone, especially you. And I’m so sorry that I’m this way but I…”

“Harry,” Louis interrupts, and her voice comes out strangled. “Baby, do you… what do you mean, you have no confidence in yourself?”

“I just… I’m so tall and gangly and clumsy, and I have huge nostrils and stupid frizzy hair that gets everywhere and I’m getting fatter by the day and I have such bad acne that never seems to die down and my boobs are too small and my…”

“Stop,” Louis commands, near shouts, and she crosses the room in three long strides and takes Harry’s wet face between her hands. “Jesus, Harry, I… I had no idea you felt this way.” Harry blinks at her. “You’re _gorgeous,_ Harry. You’re fucking beautiful.”

Harry looks at the floor. “But you’re my girlfriend, you have to say that.”

Louis shakes her. “But obviously I think it, or I wouldn’t have kissed you, or fucked you, or done anything that bring us to this point where we’re at now.” She groans. “I don’t ever tell you this, but sometimes when I wake up in the morning and you’re still asleep next to me I still get this funny feeling in my heart because I see you like this and there’s a stupid, stupid jealous part of me that never wants anyone else to see you like that.” A sharp exhale. “And then sometimes when we’re out, I see people checking you out because _hello,_ why wouldn’t they? And I feel like I have to glare them down, stake my claim on you, which is _so_ dumb because I know you love me. I really believe you love me, but… Haz, I’m a jealous person by nature. Wildly possessive of what’s mine, and I know you’re not mine but… well, you kind of are.”

“I am,” Harry sobs. “I am yours, if that’s what you want me to be. I… I had no idea. About any of that.”

Louis slides her hands down so they’re at Harry’s shoulders, and she crushes the two of them together, chest to chest, faces tucked into necks and fingers clutching at whatever body parts they can. It’s horrible and painful, and Louis hates that this is the closest she’s felt to Harry in fucking _days,_ and she can’t quite believe it’s come to this.

“I love you so much,” she says simply i. “I think we both need to talk about these things because I can’t… _we_ can’t go on like this, baby. We’re stuck in this shitty sort of limbo and I can’t… I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“I love you too,” Harry says, pulling back and awkwardly wiping her snotty face on the collar of her jumper. “Yes, we do. This is eating me inside and it’s not… it’s not right because I shouldn’t feel like I can’t go over and kiss my girlfriend.”

“For the record, I always want you to kiss me,” she says with a wet laugh. “And I’m kind of upset you haven’t for a while.”

“I’d kiss you now but I’m all snotty,” Harry sniffs, but Louis really doesn’t care about that.

“I don’t care,” she says, then moulds their sticky lips together. It’s not the longest kiss they’ve ever shared, nor the most heated, but it’s _familiar,_ and that’s clearly something they both needed. When they pull back she tucks some of Harry’s hair behind her ear as she always does after a kiss, then asks, “do you still want to go out tonight?”

“Do you?” Harry echoes. “I mean, if you don’t want to then I’ll happily stay in but…” She grins, bites her lip. “It seems a shame to deny the world you in that jumpsuit.”

That rips a laugh out of Louis that she didn’t see coming, ugly and loud, and she rests her forehead against Harry’s chest and cuddles her in tighter. “Okay,” she relents. “Let’s go out.” She looks up. “But I can’t promise I’ll stay out the whole night. I still feel… a little odd about the whole thing.”

“That’s fine,” Harry nods, then pulls back and wrinkles her nose. “I should probably shower before I even consider going anywhere.”

“Probably,” Louis laughs, then kisses her again, one, two, three times. “Hey, I’m gonna finish my make-up and then head next door, is that alright?”

“Course,” Harry nods, stepping back and fumbling to undo the button on her jeans. “I’ll meet you there in half an hour?”

Louis nods too, then moves closer and kisses her again, loathed to stop now she’s started again. She pulls back with a reluctant moan. “Yeah, babe, see you in half an hour.”

When she arrives next door it’s Liam who lets her in, and his big eyes are filled with concern.

“All good in the hood?”

Louis nods and helps herself to a can of Niall’s beer. “Yeah, think so,” she breathes, then settles onto the sofa and tries to ignore the way everyone is making fun of the blush on her cheeks. Clearly they’d all been warned about this fight beforehand, but the fact that Louis is here and smiling tells them all they need to know.

Just as the taxi pulls up outside and Jesy is using her best Mum Voice to rally everyone together, their flat buzzer sounds. Ed goes to open it and wolf-whistles, “looking _good,_ Styles,” and Louis spins on her heel, jaw almost hitting the floor when she clocks her.

Harry’s dressed as fucking Wonder Woman, with a little bralet, tiny blue shorts, and knee high boots that make her legs look miles long. Her hair is backcombed and she’s wound a scarf through the front, and Louis would never much like to eat her up.

“Alright, Louis, close your fucking mouth,” Niall calls from across the hall. She flips him off and takes a couple of slow steps forward, Harry meeting her halfway.

“You look really good,” Louis breathes, and Harry giggles and does a little turn, wiggling her hips. Louis reaches for her, pulls her in, and beams. “Fuck, you look _really_ good.”

Harry rests her hand on Louis’s cheek and moulds their lips together, still smiling. Louis finds herself arching into it, practically, head over heels for this feeling, for this _girl._ The kiss is long, longer than they’d usually share in front of a big group like this, but it’s wonderful and warm and hope flickers in Louis’s belly that maybe, just maybe, tonight won’t be such a disaster after all.

When they pull back Harry’s still grinning, and even though everyone else around them is groaning and catcalling and generally being an arsehole, Louis doesn’t even care.

The night out is a bit shit – badly organised and too many people – so Louis and Harry don’t stay out too long. They tumble into a cab together just after one, and are in bed, sated, sweaty, _happy,_ by two.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis rushes out, and she knows that now may _not_ be the best timing, not when she’s sticky and she’s got all sorts of bodily fluids decorating her thighs, but she’s got to get this out. “I freaked out, and I’m a dickhead, and I’m tired of sleeping with my back to you.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a long moment, brushing some of Louis’s haphazard hair behind her. She looks as gorgeous as she always does, and Louis knows it’s daft and unreasonable because they don’t know what the future holds, but she never wants anyone else to see Harry like this. This is something the universe reserved for her and her alone, or so she hopes.

“I’m sorry too,” Harry says eventually, words careful and calculated as they leave her mouth. “I’m sorry that I let it get to this and I’m sorry that it took us a while to fix it.”

“God, am I sorry for that,” Louis says, sliding her leg up in between Harry’s. “I feel awful, babe. What happened was not your fault and the last thing I’d ever want is to have something like that drive a wedge between us.”

Harry leans in a bit, tucking her face into Louis’s armpit. “I don’t want to keep constantly apologising,” she says, biting at Louis’s tricep playfully. “I think we should just, like, talk, right?” She looks up at Louis through her lashes, still heavy with mascara. “We’ve never had a problem with talking before.”

Louis nods and snuggles under the duvet. “Okay, yeah, let’s. Do you wanna start or can I?”

It’s late and they’re both a little drunk and a lot tired, but when they fall asleep spooning, Harry as the little spoon and Louis as the big, the basics feel like they’ve been covered. Louis has some trust issues and some jealousy that she hadn’t realised was as bad as it was, and Harry has a lot of self-esteem issues that have built up over the years for multiple reasons. She’s been through a lot of shit in her short life, and they toss out the idea of possibly seeing a counsellor (definitely Harry, possibly Louis) and there’s still so much more to talk about, but that’s okay. They’re in love, and they’re finally together again, and that feels like a good start.

Louis drapes a protective arm over Harry’s waist and kisses her hair as they drop off to sleep. Harry snuggles back a little, linking their fingers, and her even breaths pull Louis under easily. It’s the best sleep she’s had in weeks.

*

Blissfully, it feels like their relationship goes from strength to strength after that. It’s been a learning curve for both of them, but it’s been a welcome one. It’s not always easy to bounce back when things like that happen, yet when there are feelings there like the feelings they share, you want to try.

Their problems haven’t magically disappeared, but it finally feels like they’re moving forwards, not backwards.

Their two-month anniversary comes around and Louis just received a small bonus in her paycheque, so they upgrade from Pizza Express to a rather fancy Italian in the centre of town. Louis wears a dress for the first time in months and Harry straightens her hair, and they drink wine and hold hands over the table and it’s really lovely.

They skip dessert in favour of _dessert,_ almost tripping each other up in their haste to leave the restaurant. Once they get back to the flat they fuck loudly, passionate and uncaring, and when Liam shoves a sloppy note under their door asking them to keep it down all they do is laugh and then go in for round two.

So much of their relationship is built on having sex that going without it had really altered their dynamic, but within a couple of weeks it feels mostly back to normal. They both have wants and unexplored kinks, and after a few weeks of their usual orgasm routine with a few new bits and pieces thrown in, Louis professes her want to be tied up and Harry obliges, using one of her headscarves to tie Louis’s hands behind her back and then eats her out until she’s crying.

“Fingers,” Louis finds herself begging, rocking back on her knees, her face buried in the pillow. She literally can’t move and Harry keeps teasing her relentlessly, using her hands to spread her open and then pulling back before Louis can come, leaving her empty and desperate. “Harry, _shit, fuck,_ Harry…”

“Yes, baby?” Harry asks, voice gravelly. Then she licks a broad stripe from Louis’s labia right up to her arsecrack, one fluid movement that nearly has Louis’s knees buckling. “What did you say?”

“Finger me,” Louis stammers, rocking back and forth on her knees, tears threatening to leak from her eyes. This would normally be the point where she would fist a hand in Harry’s hair, keep her in place where she wants her, but she _can’t._ “Fucking fuck me, _Harry, please…”_

Harry bites at her bottom, then brushes her dry fingertips over Louis’s arse, dipping inside. She’s clenching around nothing, and Louis’s mind is so fuzzy, she’s so _close,_ and then suddenly Harry’s thumb presses a little harder, goes into Louis’s hole, and she comes so hard she sees stars, with a jolt and a shout before her legs give way and she can’t do anything more than lie there until Harry’s clumsy fingers work to untie her a few moments later.

“Did you come?” she grunts, turning to find Harry. Her hair gets in the way and she tries in vain to blow it out of the way, but thankfully Harry’s hand comes down and moves it for her.

“I did,” Harry says, sliding down so she’s lying beside her. And then she grins. “So. How was that?”

“Fucking fantastic.” She grins dopily, then puckers her lips for a kiss, which Harry happily provides. “We are definitely doing that again?”

“Wrists okay?” Harry asks, then reaches for one and smoothes her fingertips over it. Louis nods. “What about your bum?”

Louis’s eyes fly open. Harry’s got a shit-eating grin on her face and Louis whines and buries her face in the pillow, trying to shake off Harry’s hand when she touches her shoulder. “Fuck _off._ ”

“Oi, I’m only joking,” Harry says, sinking her teeth into Louis’s shoulderblade. “Louis. Come on, look at me.” Silence. “ _Louis._ ”

“What?” Louis gripes, perhaps a little harsher than intended. Harry raises her eyebrows. “Yes, it’s very much okay, thank you for asking.”

“And you liked that, like, a lot.” It’s not a question. “Louis.”

“Yes, I liked it,” Louis mumbles. “What more do you want me to say?”

“Is it something you want to, like, explore?” Harry asks, tentative. “Because fucking hell, I’ve never seen you come like that before. That was…”

“Yes, it was fab, I came really hard, can we drop it?”

“O… kay…” Harry draws it out and frowns, then pecks Louis on the forehead. “Because if it’s something you’ve thought about then we can talk about it.”

Truth be told, Louis’s thought about it a lot, and she doesn’t know _why._ But _that_ area is relatively unexplored territory for the pair of them sex-wise, and she doesn’t want to bring it up because she’s well aware it’s not something everyone wants to touch. Katie, her ex, had rimmed her once, and it was the best orgasm of her life before Harry came along, but Katie herself had asked Louis if they could never do it again and Louis had reluctantly agreed.

“Louis?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you really going to make me say it?” Louis snaps. “Harry, I want you to put your fingers up my bum while we fuck.”

Harry blinks at her. “Um.”

Louis feels herself go fiery red. “Listen,” she says, a lot quieter this time. “I didn’t quite mean to shout it at you like that but…” She ducks her head. “Will you fucking say something other than _um_ , please?”

“Um,” Harry says helpfully. “Okay.”

“If you kink shame me here I’m kicking you out,” Louis tells her sternly.

“It’s my room,” Harry fires back, grinning. Dickhead. “So you… want that? I mean, is that… something you’d want to do with me?”

It’s not often Louis gets embarrassed, especially when it comes to something like sex, but she feels her cheeks flame and she drops her gaze.

“I mean… maybe?” she huffs, shrugging. “It’s not… I mean, yeah, I really want to but I know it’s not for everyone.”

“I want to,” Harry says, and for once she doesn’t sound like she’s questioning it; she’s not biting her lip like she usually would, nor is she avoiding Louis’s eyes. “I think it’s hot. _Hey._ It is. I’m the one who initiated it here, aren’t I?”

“I just…” Louis finally looks up, holds Harry’s gaze for a second. She doesn’t really understand why the need to explain herself here is so strong, but here we are. “I know bum stuff isn’t exactly something that features often in lesbian sex but I…”

“You want it,” Harry finishes off for her, tangling a hand in Louis’s messy hair. “So we’ll do it.”

“I don’t know why this feels like such a big deal,” Louis mumbles. “I don’t, like, ever get embarrassed about sex stuff. I feel like…”

“I want you to peg me one day, you know,” Harry interrupts, and _oh_ , now the lip biting is back. “I really want to be held down and, you know, fucked, but I’m definitely a lesbian. Definitely.”

“Good to know,” Louis teases, but she nods as she says it. “Yeah, of course, babe. That sounds…” It sounds like something she’s not thought much about before, but hey, they fuck each other with vibrators and use other toys a lot of the time, so why should this be any different? “Yeah, _let’s_.”

Harry smiles, ducks her head. “I love you,” she whispers. “Sex with you is brilliant, just so you know.”

“I love you too.” Louis curls an arm around her, brings her forward so their mouths can meet. “Sex with you is fucking fab, darling. You’re the best I ever had, and that was even before I realised I loved you.”

Harry’s lips are soft and gentle, curved up in a bright smile when she kisses her again.

And if they spend over two hours on LoveHoney, laughing until their bellies hurt at the wild selection of sex paraphernalia you can purchase – fisting gloves and a vaginal speculum daily deal for £25, anyone? – well, nobody has to know but them.

*

Turns out, bum fingering is _just_ as good as Louis imagined, if not _better_.

*

“Can I ask you a question?” Harry asks, chewing on her lip. It's a few weeks later and they're in Nando’s, and so far Harry has spent more time chewing her own skin than her chicken burger. Louis takes this opportunity to steal some of her Perinaise.

“Sure, baby,” she nods, not-so-daintily stripping the meat from the bones on her plate. “Are you alright?”

Harry nods. “Yeah,” she says mildly, and then, “look, would it be alright if I came and stayed with you for a bit over the sum…”

“Yes,” Louis practically shouts before Harry’s even finished the question. “Yes, fuck, of course you can.”

Harry narrows her eyes. “Have you been talking to Gemma?”

“What? No,” Louis says, probably a little unconvincingly. But now doesn’t feel like the time to admit she eavesdropped on Harry and Gemma’s conversation. “No, I haven’t, babe, but I do, I want you to come and stay with me for the summer. I was planning on asking you, to be fair.”

“Oh, really?” Harry asks, interest piqued. She finally turns her attention to her food, dipping a chip in her sauce and swirling it around her plate.

“Um, obviously,” Louis harrumphs. “Like, for literally the whole summer if you want.”

Harry’s mouth drops open, a little piece of lettuce falling out in the process. Louis wrinkles her nose. “I can’t stay the whole summer,” Harry flaps, dropping her burger onto her plate with a wet thump. “That’s… no, Lou, I couldn’t.”

“Why?” Louis asks, curious and tentative.

“I just… that’s too much,” Harry whines, then groans. “What if your mum doesn’t like me? And the food costs, the laundry, I…”

“Do not matter,” Louis cuts in swiftly. “Look, baby, we’ve got enough mouths to feed that one more ain’t going to make much difference, and laundry costs? Seriously?”

“That’s too much,” Harry repeats, sighing. “I only… I need somewhere to stay for three weeks, that’s all. Is that okay?”

“Three weeks? Why only three weeks, babe?” Louis asks, feigning ignorance.

“Because that’s when we can move into our house for next year,” Harry says, voice quiet. “Where I’m going to live for the rest of the summer.”

“But why would you live there on your own and not with me?” Louis has to ask. “It really isn’t an issue, darling, I promise. I want you to stay with us, and I’ve spoken to my mum and she’s okayed it with Dan. We’ve got you covered all summer, I swear.” She chuckles. “They’ve even agreed to finally get me a double bed.”

“Three weeks,” Harry says again. “I need to move back here so I can get a job.”

“Oh, okay. That’s fair enough,” Louis nods. “I was going to transfer temporarily to the Donny branch but I suppose I can take annual leave for the first three weeks and then come back with you and work the rest, yeah?”

Harry blinks at her like she’s gone mad. “What?”

“Well, I don’t think you want to be alone all summer now, do you?”

“I… I don’t know,” Harry says, shrugging, then suddenly becomes very interested in her chips. “I hadn’t thought about that. But I don’t… don’t spend the summer away from your mum and siblings on my account, seriously.”

“Yeah, right,” Louis scoffs, “and let you live in that house all by yourself? Literally be on your own for days on end? No, babe, not happening, sorry.”

Harry’s mouth is hanging open at this point. “But…” she stammers.

“No buts,” Louis says, then hauls herself along the booth and closer to Harry. “Harry. I’m your girlfriend and I love you. I…” She sighs, wipes her hands on her jeans, and then reaches for Harry’s. “I may not yet know the extent of the reasons you don’t want to go home, and that’s fine. You tell me when it’s time for you to tell me. But I’m not having you spend your summer alone when it’s really no big deal for me to come and live with you. I want to, in fact.”

Harry blinks at her again, silent for a good few seconds, and then she does something that Louis really wasn’t expecting.

She bursts into tears.

Loud, noisy sobs leave her slumped body, and Louis looks around wildly, dazed and a little confused, before she bundles Harry against her and frantically tries to quieten her down. It doesn’t really work, because fucking hell, Harry is crying like Louis’s never seen her cry before, sobbing and shaking and getting snot all over Louis’s sweatshirt. Blindly, Louis fumbles for her bag and tries to find the packet of tissues she knows are in there.

A waitress comes over and awkwardly deposits some napkins on their table, and Louis mouths a thank-you over the top of Harry’s head. She grabs one, dabs at Harry’s eyes, and coos some useless nonsense that she hopes will dispel the tears.

“Fuck, I’m so embarrassing,” Harry whimpers, face hot against Louis’s neck. “Fuck, fuck, Lou, I’m so… I’m so sorry, I…”

“Let’s get out of here, hm?” Louis half-asks, half-begs, because she hates the way everyone is looking at them, curious and judgmental and nosey. Inside she’s thanking her lucky stars you pay for your food as you order here because the idea of hanging around for the bill is vastly unappealing. She drapes Harry’s cardigan over her shoulders and presses a hand into the small of her back, guiding her towards the door and out onto the high street. She considers hailing them a cab back to halls, but decides instead to link her arm through Harry’s and march them home at speed.

The security guard in their complex looks at them with great concern as Louis fumbles to swipe them into the building, but he gives them a wide birth once Louis shoots him a glare. In fact, she glares at pretty much everyone as they hurry towards the lifts, jabbing the buttons hard and not even bothering to hold it as a couple more people approach.

Thankfully, Harry’s big sobs seem to have subsided, but there’s still tears decorating her cheeks and she keeps letting out these odd, shallow hiccups every few seconds. Louis’s hand stays firm on her back, stroking under her cardigan and shirt so there’s skin on skin, but it still feels weak, like she’s not doing enough.

She wants to know why Harry reacted like that, but she also really doesn’t.

“Tea?” she croaks awkwardly, swinging her keys back and forth with her free hand. She’s restless, as she’s sure Harry can tell, and she thinks she might need a few seconds to compose herself before Harry starts crying again. Tea seems like an excellent way to give herself that time. “Come on, babe, you look like you could use one.”

“Sure,” Harry mumbles, looking at the floor. She shuffles a little closer to Louis and then, like she isn’t sure she’s allowed to, she leans forward and gives her the tiniest peck on the forehead, and then immediately flushes red.

Louis opens her mouth to say something, anything, but the lift dings and opens onto their floor and they trudge out. Louis unlocks the door and Harry fumbles for her keys in her huge backpack, and then Louis squeezes her wrist before bolting to the kitchen like the coward that she is.

Niall’s in there, in just his pants, eating a bowl of Supernoodles balanced on his belly. “You’re back early,” he notes, setting the bowl onto the coffee table. He grins coyly, sharp canines poking out. “Couldn’t wait to get her home, eh?”

“Fuck off, no,” Louis says harshly, harsher than she intended. She groans and buries her head in her hands. “Sorry, I didn’t…”

“Hey, shit, is everything alright?” Niall asks, abandoning his dinner in favour of sliding over to Louis and wrapping her in a hug. He smells gross, like cheap boy deodorant and cheese and onion crisps, but she’s grateful for it and wraps her arms around his neck.

“No,” she mumbles, and lets her eyes drop closed for just a second. And then she reopens them, because all she sees is the way Harry’s face crumpled like that, the sadness and the shock and the weight of it all, and she pulls away, reluctantly. “Harry just burst into tears in the middle of Nando’s, fuck’s sake.”

“What the fuck?” Niall breathes, eyes bugging. “Oh, bless her heart, what’s the matter?”

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ million dollar question,” Louis mutters, then darts past Niall to fill the kettle. “Like, proper sobbing and shit. She’s really upset and I don’t know why, Ni.”

“Where is she now?”

“Her room,” Louis says. “I said I’d make tea, because, you know, tea solves everything.”

“That it does,” Niall says solemnly. “Were you talking about anything sad? Like I don’t want to pry but…”

Louis sighs, presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. She’s going to smudge her mascara but she doesn’t care. “I said I’d move into the house early this summer with her,” she says with a shrug. “Instead of living at home for the whole ten weeks or whatever it is. I offered to let her stay with me the whole summer because she doesn’t want to go home, and she said no. She said she’d stay for the first three weeks, but once we’re able to move into the new house that’s what she wants to do. And get a job around here too.”

“Why doesn’t she want to go home?” Niall asks after a beat, like he isn’t sure he’s allowed. “Does she not like home?”

“Long story,” Louis groans. She needs to keep her mind and her hands busy so she grabs two mugs and two teabags, then walks over to grab the milk from the fridge. “I don’t even know the whole story, to be honest with you. But I… I have a feeling I’m about to know, and it kind of scares me.”

Niall bites his lip. “Why?”

“Because this has just been affecting Haz so much, you know?” Louis says. Fuck, it feels good to finally talk to someone else about this, get all her jumbled thoughts from the past few months out there with someone else so she has a hand in trying to make sense of them all. “And she’s been so weird lately because I know she’s worrying about finishing for the summer and not knowing where to go.”

“Is home… dangerous?” Niall asks, clearly very worried now. It takes a lot to worry Niall, the lad is so carefree, but like the rest of the flat he’s fiercely protective of Harry.

Louis shoves her thumb into her mouth. “I don’t know,” she answers truthfully. “I honestly couldn’t tell you at this point. I have a feeling it’s… maybe not dangerous, but really fucking unpleasant. I know enough to know I don’t want her going home, let’s put it that way.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Niall swears. “So is she staying with you?”

“Yep,” Louis nods, grabbing the kettle and pouring water over the teabags. She stirs them then dumps both teabags in the sink, not even giving a shit that Liam will bitch at her in the morning. “For the first couple of weeks at least. And then she’s coming back here and living in the new place, or so she says.”

“Without you or anyone else?” Niall asks, incredulous. Louis nods. “What the hell?”

“Exactly,” Louis says with a grimace. “I’ve got to go and talk to her.”

Niall gives her an awkward half-hug, mindful not to spill the mugs of tea. “Love you both,” he tells her firmly. “I’ll be in here if you need anything. Give me a shout or a text or something.”

“Love you too,” she mumbles before she heads back out to the hallway, walking down to Harry’s bedroom at such a slow pace. She braces herself, then awkwardly opens the door with her elbow. “Babe?”

Harry’s sat on her bed, shoes off and her knees tucked under her chin. She looks desperately young, and Louis sets the teas down and hurries over to her, perching on the bed next to her. She’s anxious and wants to reach out for her, but she doesn’t know if she’s allowed yet, wants Harry to initiate the first touch.

Harry doesn’t, at least not for a while, and the silence that stretches on for nearly ten minutes is almost deafening.

“I’m sorry,” she eventually croaks, and Louis’s head snaps up so fast she almost gives herself whiplash. “I’m such a fuck-up.”

“No, baby, you’re not,” Louis says quietly. “You’re hurting is what you are, and I want to help.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Harry whispers. “Don’t make me go home.”

A noise that Louis has never heard nor made before escapes her, but they both ignore it. “I’m not going to make you go home,” Louis promises. “I’m not even going to let you go home, at least not without me there. You’re staying with me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, voice breathy, and then, “only if that’s okay though.”

“Harry, I invited you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry whimpers, and Louis finally relents, shuffling up and taking all of Harry’s weight into her. Harry curls around her, rests her head on Louis’s chest, and links their fingers. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

“What is going on, babe?” Louis all but begs. “I can’t help you if you don’t… I’m not a mind reader, sweetheart.”

“I’m being a prick,” Harry mumbles, and Louis starts to protest but she gets shut down. “No, I am. I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about this stupid, stupid…”

“Nothing is stupid if that’s how you feel,” Louis tries.

“ _Jealousy_ ,” Harry explodes, pulling away from Louis and then blinking at her dumbly, like she can’t believe she just said that. “You see? It’s not fair. I’m fucking jealous.”

Louis stares at her incredulously. “What?”

“It isn’t fair that I’m this big liability getting in the way of your perfect summer when you could be spending time with your family.”

Louis still doesn’t understand. “I don’t…”

“I don’t even have the option to spend the summer with my family,” Harry grunts, wiping furiously at her eyes. “And you’re just… you’re willing to give up all this time, for me, when you shouldn’t.”

“Harry…”

“You have such a big, happy family, Louis, who all love you so much and that’s so fucking great, it really is. But I haven’t got even a little family and that… that’s hard for me to, like, constantly reminded of, even now. Shit.”

And Louis’s heart breaks.

“Harry,” she says softly, cupping her face and leaving a long, soft kiss on her forehead. “ _Harry_.”

Harry nods, teary-eyed and trembling again, and Louis doesn’t know what to say so she doesn’t.

So she wipes at her tears, and she kisses her cheeks and her nose and her chin and she tells her over and over that it’s okay, that she loves her endlessly and it’s going to be okay, even though she knows Harry doesn’t believe it.

She isn’t sure she believes it right now either.

*

Things get easier but they don’t get easy. Harry’s started to accept that Louis isn’t taking no for an answer when it comes to Easter break, but they’re not really talking about it.

Life goes on, slowly.

They’re all in the kitchen (except Niall, who’s still in lectures) and Louis is cooking dinner for the both of them, her trademark pasta bake. The telly is on in the corner, music channel blaring, and Harry is plastered up against Louis’s back, hips swaying together to the beat of Fifth Harmony, when Harry’s phone starts ringing in her pocket.

Louis moans a little as Harry’s weight leaves her back but, assuming it’s probably just Gemma, she doesn’t turn around. Harry hurries out the room to answer the call, and when Liam calls over asking who it was Louis just shrugs. She doesn’t have a reason to be worried, after all.

Oh, how wrong she was.

About fifteen minutes later, the door opens again, banging against the hallway wall, and Louis jumps, dropping her wooden spoon to the floor.

“What the hell?”

“Harry?” Perrie says, moving forward towards the doorway. Louis drops the wooden spoon in the sink and steps back. “Shit, darling, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Harry nods, and Louis hurries over to her, and neither of them say anything for about thirty, painfully long seconds.

“I need you,” Harry eventually says, licking her lips. Louis furrows her brows, confused, but the exhausted look on Harry’s face speaks volumes.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Harry says nervously. “I just…”

“Who… who was on the phone?”

“Her.”

“Her?”

“ _Her_ ,” Harry says a little desperately, glancing from Louis to Liam to Perrie, who both look concerned and confused in equal measure. Louis flicks the hob off, not caring about the half-boiled pasta anymore, and reaches for Harry’s outstretched hand, which she squeezes. “Louis, please don’t make me go back to her.”

“Fuck that,” Louis says loudly, perhaps a little too loud, and she moves closer to Harry, wrapping her up in a tight hug. Harry’s shaking, vibrating like a live wire, and Louis kisses her collarbone, tries to remind her that she’s here and she’s safe. “Hey. We can go to our room and talk, alright?”

She waves off Perrie’s concerned mouthings and moves them towards the door, down the hallway and towards Harry’s room. She locks the door behind them and lies down with Harry on the bed, pulling the duvet over their heads. Harry once told her that her mum used to do this with her as a child, and when her anxiety is bad Louis finds that this helps, at least a little bit.

“Do you want to spoon or do you want to look at me?” Louis whispers. It never feels right to talk louder than a whisper when they’re in the safety of their blanket fort.

“Look at you,” Harry answers. “I need to, like, know how you’re going to react, I think. I need… I need you to not be too mad.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Louis starts, but Harry shakes her head, hair fanning out against the pillows.

“At her,” she says, so, so quiet. “I don’t know how not to be affected by what she says but, like, I’m also not angry at her, I dunno.” Her eyes are big and wide when she asks, “Why am I not more angry, Lou?”

Louis reaches out, strokes her cheek. “Tell me what’s happened, darling.”

Harry sighs and bites her lip. “She wanted to know if I’m coming back for Easter.”

Louis takes a deep breath. “And?”

“I told her I wasn’t coming home,” Harry mumbles, biting her lip so hard Louis’s worried it’ll start to bleed. “I told her I had somewhere to stay. Which was with my girlfriend.” She shakes her head. “This feels like the biggest thing I’ve ever done, holy shit.”

“Harry,” Louis breathes, then surges forward, kissing her ever so gently. “Fuck, Harry. That’s big but that’s… I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“And she shouted, like I knew she would,” Harry continues. “Told me it was just a phase, that I needed to stop rebelling against her and my family like this.”

“What the fuck?”

“I hung up.” Harry’s eyes are shiny with tears again. “I know I need to respect her, but… she can’t expect me to respect her when she doesn’t respect me back, right?”

“Absolutely,” Louis nods. “That’s a big step, baby, and you did it.”

“I feel sick and scared and alone,” Harry whispers. “What does this mean for me now, Louis? Where can I call home?”

“You’re not alone,” Louis promises, nudging their noses together. She pulls Harry closer to her, breathes her in. “You’re never alone. And you can call home where you want to call home now. You’re old enough to be your own person, to not have to go home to a homophobe.”

Harry sniffs. “She’s not… she’s never been abusive, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve never been hit or anything.”

“I wasn’t… Harry, you don’t have to defend her, you know. If she makes you feel like shit…”

“She’s my grandmother, Louis!” Harry snaps. “She raised me, took me in when Mum couldn’t. I have to appreciate her for that.”

Louis’s mouth hangs open, unsure of what to say. “Haz…”

“We never really got along, to be honest,” Harry says, frowning as she speaks. “She likes to run a tight ship, that was always the wording she used. Teenagers these days can be so _frivolous.”_

“What do you mean?”

“I got my first job at 13,” Harry continues on. She really does have side-stepping direct questions down to a fine art. “A paper route. Nothing fancy. Worked that job until I was 15, when I lied to Nick’s dad and told him I was 16 so I could work in the pub that he owns with Nick’s mum. I just cleared tables and potwashed, but it was more money. I could start saving then.”

“You were just a kid,” Louis can’t help but whisper. “Fuck’s sake, Harry, you were…”

“I needed things like a phone, or clothes, and a laptop for schoolwork. I couldn’t study on her clunky old Windows 98 with no internet connection, not easily. I… Nick helped me install wifi in my bedroom and I got the bills sent to his house so Granny wouldn’t pick up on it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Louis scoffs. “Nobody can be that tight.”

“She can when she’s raising two teenagers on a pension.”

“She’ll get child benefits and state help,” Louis says with a roll of her eyes. “Sorry, anyway. That’s none of my business. Carry on.”

Harry blinks a few times, and Louis knows she’s bracing herself. Her hands find the bottom of Harry’s jumper and she slides them under it, skin on skin. “Then I realised I was gay.”

Louis’s heart sinks. “Oh, _Haz_ …”

“I told Gemma, obviously,” Harry says. “Gemma wasn’t stupid enough to tell her. Gemma knew how it would go down. I’m not even sure how she found but I’m pretty sure she went through my stuff, my journal.” Louis has to force herself to not ball her hand up in a frustrated fist. “For a while the only people that knew were Gemma and Nick, so I felt safe.”

“But?”

“Well, Gemma was already planning her escape.” She presses her lips together. “She’d looked into unis pretty far away, but she actually settled on one in Sheffield, but like me she didn’t have any intention of going back. Then she met Michal, her boyfriend, and he’s got fucking rich parents who had a summer house for the pair of them to live in and they helped them both get a mortgage once they graduated. They’re doing really well, bless them.”

“But it meant she left you,” Louis states as a fact, and she hates the way Harry’s face falls.

“Yeah,” Harry whispers. “Yeah, it did.”

“Baby…”

“But she needed to,” Harry continues. “We both needed to. And it sucks but she couldn’t take her baby sister to uni with her, could she?”

“No, but…”

“I’m not angry at Gemma,” Harry is quick to say. Louis knows this already. “Gemma and Granny really didn’t get on from an early age. They hated each other, in fact.”

“Why?”

“Gemma was a bit of a rebel growing up,” Harry explains. “She ignored the rules and refused to pay for stuff; she used to sneak down in the middle of the night and get us both food, and she used to get grounded for that.”

“ _What_?”

Harry sighs. “Frivolous was also more than one cup of tea in the morning. Frivolous was jam on toast on a weekday when that should have been a weekend treat.”

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Louis growls.

“Maybe, but.” Harry shrugs. “She disciplined my dad in the same way when he was growing up, and she… I don’t think she liked my mum very much at all. Always said my mum was a slapper and that she was too soft when she was raising us.”

“What a _bitch_.” She strokes at Harry’s cheek, and then freezes, suddenly remembering something from months ago that at the time she’d brushed off, but now makes horrible sense.

_Harry smiles softly. “No, that’s… that’s perfect,” she says, and then, “how much do I owe you for it?”_

_Louis opens her mouth, but then Harry’s question, what she actually just asked, hits her and she closes it again. She blinks at her a few times instead. “What?”_

_“How much do I owe you for the cuppa?” Harry says again, like that’s a perfectly standard question to ask. “20p? 30p?”_

_“Harry, sorry, but what the fuck are you on about?” Louis blurts. “It’s tea, it’s… you don’t owe me anything for a cup of tea.”_

“You wanted to pay me for a cup of tea,” she mumbles, shaking her head disbelievingly. “You thought…”

Harry flushes a deep red, a little noise escaping her. “Fuck, I forgot that,” she breathes. “How _embarrassing_.”

“Harry, baby, no,” Louis says, and god, she’s holding Harry in her arms, forehead to forehead, chest to chest, but right now she feels like she’ll never be able to hold Harry close enough, tight enough. “It’s fine, like, I didn’t know. You didn’t know.”

She kisses her for lack of anything else to say, because her heart is breaking with every single word, with every single crack in her girlfriend’s voice. She wishes she knew what to do.

“My grandmother thinks I’m a whore,” Harry carries on, like she can’t stop now she’s started. “When she found out I was gay that’s all she called me from then on. A _whore_. A slapper like my mother. Just a phase I’m going through to upset her. All this shit that I just… have just made me feel like shit ever since.”

 _Whore._ So Louis hadn’t misheard after all.

“Never, never ever,” Louis promises, peppering kisses all over Harry’s face. “What a callous fucking bitch. I don’t even care, you’re coming home with me.”

Harry’s crying now, hot tears trailing down her cheeks, leaving wet patches on Louis’s sweatshirt. She cries for a long time, until Louis is vaguely aware that it’s getting dark outside their little duvet cave, but Harry’s been bottling this up for months and months, and there’s so many emotions she needs to get out before they can move on.

Louis had no idea it was this bad.

“This isn’t the kind of shit you usually put your girlfriend through when you’ve only been together three and a half months,” Harry says eventually, sniffing wetly.

“Yeah, well, this isn’t the most usual of situations,” Louis hums, using the cuff of her sleeve to dab at some of the tears. “And you know what? We’ve essentially been dating since September, so really it’s been nearly seven months.”

Harry chuckles; it’s not much, but Louis will take it. “Yeah, I guess.”

Louis pecks her on the lips. “I know so.”

Harry licks her lips after Louis’s pulled back, then starts nibbling on the bottom one again. Louis thumbs over it, pulls it down, because Harry will just make it bleed otherwise. “Thanks for listening,” Harry whispers. “And for staying and everything.”

Louis nods. “Of course, baby.”

“I love you.”

“I love you so much,” Louis tells her, rubbing their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. She has no plans to dial down the affection tonight. “I will do anything you need, yeah? Anything to help, like, putting you up over Easter – do not fight me on this, babe, you’re coming home with me – and stuff like that. Literally all of it.”

“I hate asking for help though,” Harry tries.

“Babe, you are nineteen years old,” Louis tells her, stern but gentle. “If you feel like going home isn’t right for you or you want to break away from that side of the family, then you are, in the eyes of the law, an adult.” She grins. “Law & Criminology, innit?”

“My girlfriend is so smart,” Harry coos, then brings up her hands up to Louis’s face, cradles it between her palms. “So what’s, like, the done thing now? Is she still my legal guardian?”

“Do you have a social worker?” Louis asks. Harry nods. “Do you speak with them much?”

“Not really,” Harry admits. “I mean, Gemma used to speak with her back in the day, but we’ve kinda distanced ourselves. Not by choice but I mean… I dunno.” She slumps.

“Hey, that’s okay.” Louis pecks her on the nose. “What you need to do then, is contact your social worker, work out your rights and what’s in your Mum’s will.” Harry looks horrified, but Louis strokes at her cheek, wills her to calm down. “I’m sorry, babe, I am but she’ll have one and we have to look into it.”

Harry nods, and Louis decides to drop it for now. It’s not an easy subject, but it’ll be even harder to stomach now because they’re both exhausted from a heavy week of lectures and deadlines and they haven’t eaten or slept particularly well either. So she tries something else.

“Are you still hungry?” she asks, brushing a strand of hair off Harry’s cheek. “I was halfway into a pasta bake but I can order us a curry if you’d prefer. Get some proper comfort food down us.”

Harry nods tersely. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Okay,” Louis says, then cups her face, kisses her softly. “Hey. I love you. Smile for me, yeah?”

Harry grimaces.

“I mean, it’s not exactly what I had in mind but I’ll take it.”

Harry sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“I’m teasing, lovely.” Louis shuffles to sit up, pushing her way out of the duvet fort, and reaches for her phone. “Why don’t I make this order and then I’ll go and make us some tea and you can have a shower or call Gemma or whatever you need to do.”

Harry laughs, only a little, but it’s a start. “You and your bloody tea.”

“Tea solves everything and I won’t hear a word against it!” Louis declares loudly, then throws the duvet off her legs and wriggles out of there, off the bed. “Come on, love. Shower or Gemma?”

“Shower,” Harry decides after a moment. “Gemma will just be cross and I… I’m not in the mood to hear people shout, even if it is only Gemma.”

Louis nods. “Okay.” She runs her hand through her hair. “Shall I order it just us or shall I ask the guys if they want anything too?”

“Oh, I want to eat in the kitchen,” Harry says as she starts to strip. Louis loves the way she’s so confident with nakedness, loves the way she’s unabashed about stripping or shaving or doing anything in front of Louis that previous girlfriends would never have dared to do. “Tonight I just want it to be as chill as possible, and like, I don’t want to think.” She bits her lip again. “The guys are really good at making it so I don’t have to think.”

Louis grins. “Cool. I’ll go and ask them.” In a bid to keep things as normal as possible, she slaps Harry’s bare arse as she goes to leave the room, and she trots down to the kitchen with a spring in her step to compensate for the uncomfortable sinking feeling in her tummy.

Harry’s funk lasts for about a week, but with every phone call Louis makes home, every slight worried comment Harry makes about Easter break, Louis works to get her out of it. She’s super excited for Harry to come to her house for the holidays, but it’s clear that on top of this whole grandmother thing this is also playing on her mind.

Louis ignores some of her studies to look deeper into the legal side of Harry’s situation, and there’s a lot of shit to sift through but she eventually settles on the conclusion that she thinks Harry wants, that now she’s over eighteen, she’s considered competent in the eyes of the law to distance herself from her legal guardian if she so desires, and she can make her own decisions regarding her healthcare, her finances and her living situations. There’s a lot of tears, but they seem like they’re mostly tears of relief, and after a long phone call with Gemma about it Harry makes the informed decision to change her non-termtime address to Gemma’s down in London, though she’s finally agreed to staying with Louis for at least a good chunk of the summer.

Louis also advises her not to contact her again, not that she really thinks there’s much chance of that, and then drafts an email to Harry’s social worker explaining the situation, sending it on once it’s been both Harry and Gemma approved.

It’s a long weekend, but it’s nice to end it curled up on the sofas with the rest of the flat, an old Inspector Morse episode playing quietly on the telly. Their term ends in five days and deadlines are creeping up on a lot of them, but Louis’s too exhausted to even open one of her hideously heavy law books. Plus, Harry’s been twitchy for most of the afternoon, and Louis knows her well enough by now to know it’s not just about the email they sent earlier.

“I want to die,” Perrie complains, chucking her own giant textbook to the floor and snagging the pack of biscuits from the coffee table instead. “How do people even get degrees? I’ve been reading the same paragraph over and over for the past half hour.”

“Fuck knows,” Zayn grumbles from under Liam’s arm, though she, like both Louis and Harry, gave up on the pretence of doing work hours ago. “Can you believe we’ve got two more years of this?”

“Try three,” Louis offers.

“Try _four_ ,” Harry whines, pouting. Louis strokes her hair. “I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do without you guys living with me the whole time. I’ll go mad.”

“Let’s not even pretend Louis isn’t going to live with you the whole time,” Liam snorts. “And then you’ll be the power couple of the north, you as an animal life-saver extraordinaire and Louis as a high-flying solicitor.”

“Is Liam drunk?” Louis asks, mostly directed at Zayn, and she laughs as Liam pouts then she wriggles to sit up, holding out her hand for Harry to take. “Alright, lads, I’m knackered. I’m going to hit the hay.” To punctuate her point she yawns, and Harry yawns along with her, resting her head on Louis’s shoulder. “Long day in the library tomorrow.”

The group chorus their goodnights and Louis drags her sleepy girlfriend down the hall to their bedroom. They don’t talk much as they strip off their clothes and clean their teeth, and once they’re in bed and under the dim glow of the lamp does Louis speak again.

“You want to ask me something, don’t you?”

Harry nods, licking her lips as she always does when she’s stalling for time. “Should I be worried that you can read me this well?”

Louis snorts. “It’s called love, my love.” She brushes the backs of her hands across Harry’s cheeks, smiling softly even in the darkness. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I want you to come and visit my mum with me over the summer,” Harry blurts, no hesitation, then drops her gaze to the mole on Louis’s neck. Taken by surprise but not wholly _unsurprised_ at the request itself, Louis winds a ringlet around her index finger on one hand and uses the other to nudge Harry’s chin up, their eyes meeting again.

“I would be honoured,” she smiles, and Harry barely waits for her to finish talking before she darts forward, slams their mouths together, and not for the first time Louis wishes things were different, that Louis agreeing to something as minimal as visiting her girlfriend’s mother didn’t come with such heartache.

So she kisses her, because if there’s something she knows how to do well it’s that, and holds her for a long time until the trembling has stopped and tears have mostly dried.

But it still doesn’t feel like enough.

*

When they both arrive at Doncaster train station and head over to Louis’s stepdad’s car, Jay rushes out of the passenger side and bundles Harry into her arms before she’s even said hello.

It takes her by surprise, Louis can tell by the look on her face, but after a few moments of tenseness and confusion she visibly sinks into it, hugging Jay back like they’ve known each other years.

Louis smiles and opens the boot, and lets her mum and her girlfriend have their moment.

*

The two weeks the pair spend in Doncaster fly by, and by the time they leave it’s like Harry’s been a part of their family her whole life. Everyone adores her, especially Daisy and Phoebe, who have no qualms in proclaiming that they’d rather Harry were their sister instead of Louis.

Harry tells them off, shaking her head wildly before she launches into an explanation of why Louis is the greatest thing since sliced bread, but Louis knows her well enough to know how much a statement like that will mean to her. And she doesn’t really mind, because at the end of the day, she agrees. She’d be sad if Harry was leaving her, too.

Jay and Dan have filled her room with a double bed as promised, but there’s also a new double wardrobe and new bedside tables, a small L ornament on one side and an H on the other.

“It’s like a fuckin’ hotel in here,” Louis mumbles, but her smile is wide and brilliant. Her mum knows her better than anyone, and she knows that Louis wasn’t messing around or exaggerating when she said that Harry was here to stay, that they were both in this for the long haul. Harry looks a little dumbfounded, bless her, but once Louis’s insisted for the thousandth time that all of this is fine, it’s great, it’s what everyone wants, she eventually unpacks her clothes into one side of the wardrobe and takes up half the desk with her toiletries and make-up.

It’s a little tense for the first couple of days because when it comes to a family as big as Louis’s, it’s not easy to ease you into suddenly living with this many people. It’s loud all the time, it’s frantic a lot of the time, and everything requires a considerable amount of teamwork. Louis almost forgets that Harry doesn’t have anything to go on when it comes to this, and it’s worryingly hard work until Jay calmly takes Harry to one side after dinner one day. The pair talk for a couple of hours, and even though Louis takes the time to catch up with both Lottie and Fizzy, she’s still keen to get Harry back and find out what’s been said.

She puts both sets of twins down for bed with minimal fuss then heads back downstairs and nudges into the kitchen, too curious to stay away. Her mum and Harry are both sat at the dining table, still, the mugs beside them long empty and a small pile of used tissues between them. At the sound of the door opening both of them stop talking about whatever they were talking about, and Louis finds herself stopping in her tracks, unsure if she’s welcome yet.

“Tea, anyone?” she offers weakly.

“Come here,” her mum says instead, beckoning her over. It looks like the both of them have been crying, not just Harry, and it makes something low and uncomfortable stir in Louis’s tummy. Has Harry told her something she doesn’t know about? But she goes over there obediently, tentatively taking a seat in the chair behind Harry. She wants to reach out, to brush the stray tear from her cheek or to fix her slightly messy hair, but she doesn’t. “Harry here was just telling me about her home life,” her mum says eventually.

“Ah.” Louis doesn’t know what to say, but this time she does take Harry’s hand. Harry leans back, twisting her chair a little, and Louis shuffles forward, wrapping an arm around her middle as Harry tucks her face into Louis’s neck, sighing. Her face is damp and she’s a little shaky, and Louis kisses her temple.

“I had no idea,” Jay admits quietly. “Louis kept this awfully quiet, which I understand and respect, before you get all defensive.” Louis closes her mouth and then chuckles, just a little. “But I’m glad you felt you could tell me, anyway.”

Harry sits up and smiles. “Thank you for, like, letting me.”

Jay reaches forward, takes her hand. “Listen, Harry. Any friend of Louis’s is a friend of mine, and any girlfriend of Louis’s that she rings me in the middle of the night chatting a mile a minute about…”

“Hey!”

“… is someone I want to feel comfortable in my house,” Jay finishes, giving her daughter a sardonic look. “And you are always welcome here, Harry, absolutely always. In fact, Louis tells me you’re spending the summer with us.”

“ _Mum_.”

“I…” Harry flounders, looking from Louis to Jay to her lap. “I think so. If that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay, we’re so happy to have you here,” Jay promises, squeezing her hand. “For as long as you need.” She pauses. “Your grandmother sounds like an insufferable arse, darling, I don’t want you going back there any more than Louis does.”

“Oh my god.”

But Harry laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound. “Thank you,” she croaks, then moves forward and pulls Jay into a hug, a move that shocks and delights Louis in equal measure. When she pulls back her eyes are shiny again. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit odd since getting here. Especially with you, Lou.”

“You’ve been fine,” Louis tells her, pressing her lips together. “I mean, if anything it’s my fault. I didn’t warn you about the Tomlinson household enough.”

“Your house is lovely,” Harry says, so painfully earnest. “And so are your family. It’s… it’s me, I swear. I don’t know how to act around a family.”

“Act like you,” Jay tells her, firm but gentle. “The girls already love you, I promise.”

Harry nods, then turns and pulls Louis into her, tucking her face into her shoulder. Louis kisses the top of her head and holds her close long after Jay’s stood up and tidied the mugs away.

It gets easier from then on, thankfully. Harry wakes up extra early with her on Easter Sunday and they creep around the garden hiding Easter eggs before bursting into the kids’ rooms, declaring the Easter bunny has been. Harry knocks out rounds and rounds of pancakes for breakfast for all of them after they’ve come back in with overflowing carrier bags of treats, and once Jay and Dan stumble down in their pyjamas all the kids, even Fizzy and Lottie, are crowded in front of the telly watching Hop.

It’s one of Louis’s favourite Easters to date.

The rest of the week passes slowly and quickly both at once – Jay takes them for lunch a couple of times, and on the days when she’s working Louis and Harry go and explore Doncaster, hit the shops, catch up on coursework, and even go to the pub with some of Louis’s schoolmates. It’s really, really lovely, and Louis revels in the way that Harry fits so seamlessly into every corner of her life.

(Stan loves Harry, and Louis only has to nipple cripple him once, when he slings his arm around Harry’s shoulders and says with a smirk, “So you’re Louis’s _bestest ever friend._ ”)

(She guesses he has a little bit of a point, but she’ll never say that out loud.)

It’s way too soon that their final weekend creeps up on them and suddenly they’re packing up their suitcases again, ready to get the train back up to uni. Jay packs them both a lunch and the younger twins refuse to let go of Louis’s legs as she tries to get in the car, and it’s quite emotional leaving them, a lot more than it was after Christmastime. She promises she’ll come and visit for a couple of weekends in the final term and, with a final fleeting promise to ring or Skype her mum at least once a weekend, she and Harry board the train.

“I loved that,” Harry tells her as they tuck into their cheese and pickle sandwiches, pressed close together in their uncomfortable seats. The train is pretty empty for a weekend, so they’d managed to bag themselves a table to eat off, plug sockets for their phones too. It’s not a long ride, but it’s always made easier with a table.

They could sit opposite each other like normal people would, but why break the habit of a lifetime?

“Loved what?” Louis asks dumbly, thinking she’s talking about the sandwiches.

“Those two weeks,” Harry says, using her thumb to wipe a few stray crumbs from Louis’s chin. “Being at home and feeling like… feeling like it is home.” She avoids Louis’s eyes but continues to grin as she asks, “so, am I still okay to stay for summer then?”

“Baby, I’d be more offended if you told me you didn’t want to,” Louis says, her grin equally as wide. She darts forward and kisses her, ever so quick, but she revels in the way that Harry’s cheeks go pink. “You’re more than welcome, yeah?” Harry nods. “And I’m glad you felt at home. That’s all I wanted. Because that… that could be your home now, if you wanted it to be.”

Harry bites at her lip. “I mean, I don’t… I obviously don’t know how long we’re going to be together but… but yeah. Yeah, I like hearing that.”

“We got this.” Louis squeezes her wrist, then brings her hand to her mouth, kisses her palm. “You don’t need to think like that, babe. I don’t plan on ending this any time soon, but, like, if it did end for whatever shitty reason, you’re still welcome if you need somewhere to go.” She pauses. “Unless you, like, cheat on me or whatever.”

Harry looks horrified. “Louis, what the hell? I would never…”

Louis grins, shushes her, shakes her head. “I know, you loser,” she tuts, still grinning. “You’re too lovely for that.”

The rest of the journey passes in a blur of fields and trees and shared wine gums, and by the time they arrive back in Manchester Harry’s practically dozing against Louis’s shoulder. Louis nudges her awake and they fumble for their bags, and then treat themselves to a taxi ride back to their campus rather than dragging their feet and suitcases through the city centre.

When they finally get back to their accommodation, they don’t even bother going to their room. They head straight to the kitchen where the rest of the group are, and they discard their suitcases to one side before they flop onto the sofas, Harry into Zayn’s arms and Louis into Liam’s.

“Hi,” Louis breathes, kissing Perrie’s cheek on her other side. Niall’s already up and boiling the kettle, and it’s _so_ nice to be back. This is _home._

“Missed you guys,” Harry says, grinning like mad. “How were your Easters?”

“Nice, thanks,” Liam says politely. Louis rolls her eyes. “What? It was nice.”

“It’s good to be back though,” Perrie says, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table. “Missed all your faces.”

“How was it meeting Lou’s family, Haz?” Zayn asks. Of all their friends, Zayn is probably the biggest worrier, especially over Harry.

“So great,” Harry tells her, and there’s such an earnestness to her tone that Louis feels herself practically glowing with happiness. “I loved it so much. Lou’s mum is the best.”

“True.” Louis nuzzles back into Liam’s hold, then gratefully accepts the steaming mug of tea Niall hands her. “Bless you, Niall Horan.”

“It went well then?” Perrie asks. “No awkward gags about the two of you shagging in Louis’s new double bed or anything?”

“Oh, there were plenty of those,” Harry says, but the pink flush on her cheeks tells them that she doesn’t really mind. “But it was like… like coming home. I’ve never…” She cuts herself off, takes a deep breath, and then says, “It was just really nice. I’m excited to stay again over the summer.”

Louis beams, catches Harry’s eye from across the room, and blows her a kiss. The rest of the gang don’t press it, but they do all groan and moan about them being the cheesiest thing to ever cheese, and then after a little longer catching up about their breaks they turn on the telly and order a huge Chinese feast for their dinner.

Unfortunately, the nights of marathoning crap TV and drinking more than they should don’t last much longer as exam season kicks in, and apart from Harry Louis feels like she barely sees any of them during the week. They’re all mostly on different courses from one another, but thankfully Louis has Leigh-Anne from the flat across the hall on hers, so they spend hours and hours writing cue cards and testing one another while Harry’s buried (literally and figuratively) in animal matter down in the labs, Zayn and Niall are stuck in the music block, and Perrie and Liam are somewhere in the Humanities offices.

It's tough at times, and Louis dreads to think what their second, third, fourth years are going to be like if she already feels like she's drowning, but they plough through. Instead of lazy Saturday mornings eating cheese on toast and watching Netflix, they become productive Saturday mornings where they try not to smudge their cue cards with greasy bacon fingers, powerpoints of old lectures pulled up on their laptop screens instead of films. They allow themselves one night out, one final knockout before they begin their three weeks of solid work, where Louis drinks nearly a whole bottle of Apple Schnapps and ends up being sick halfway through the night.

It’s not the blowout night she had in mind exactly, but there's no time to dwell. Her first exam is Monday so she doesn't even have time to feel hungover the next day. After several strong cups of tea and more Nurofen than it's advised to take in one go, Louis sets herself back up at her desk and immerses herself back in EU Law.

Revise, stress, sleep, repeat. Revise, stress, sleep, repeat.

The term rolls on.

*

Louis really doesn’t cry often, despite what the events of this year would have you believe, but that exam… oh boy, _that_ exam.

She lets herself into the flat and trudges to Harry’s bedroom, finding Harry sat at her desk, glasses on, scribbling away at some notes. She spins around in her chair the second she hears Louis though, smiling brightly.

“How was your exam, babe?”

Louis isn’t going to cry.

“It was…” She cuts herself off, then shakes her head, presses her lips together, forces the tears away. “It was…”

Turns out Louis _is_ going to cry.

Harry nods wordlessly, then takes her glasses off and folds them onto the desk, shuffles forward, guides Louis to the bed, and lets her have a good cry into her shoulder for the next half hour.

*

Thankfully, the rest of Louis’s exams go better than the first, and she doesn’t feel like such a fuck up when she emerges from the last one – Corporate Law – with a happy sigh. The sun is shining, she’s finished uni for four months, and her flat are there to greet her, grinning from ear to ear, and Liam’s holding a six pack of her favourite beer and everything is going to be fine.

Louis’s exam was the last, because apparently the law department like to torture all their students for as long as possible, but now she’s done she feels like such a weight has been lifted from her. She barrels into her friends, the best people in the whole world, and jumps with them as they all cheer her name.

This is what uni life is about.

She takes Harry’s hand and skips towards the grass, and lets summer unfurl around her.

*

Harry’s results day is a Wednesday, Louis’s a Thursday.

The emails are due to be in their inboxes before noon, but Louis really doesn’t want to look. She only needs 40% to pass the year, realistically she knows that, but there’s still that little voice in the back of her head that tells her that fucking up her EU Law exam is going to have brought everything down, that she’s going to have to retake the whole year and live it out again as a failure.

And what really doesn’t help, as happy as she is for her, is Harry on her other side, her fucking budding genius of a girlfriend who came top of the fucking year. Louis’s ecstatic for her, she really is, but she couldn’t bring herself to go out with Harry and her coursemates last night to celebrate because she’s too nervous about her own results. She and Leigh had curled up on Louis’s sofa and shared a huge Dominos, drowning their sorrows in cheese and tomato goodness rather than alcohol, then Louis had curled up in Harry’s bed, alone, and forced herself not to cry again.

Fuck, she doesn’t know what’s wrong with her.

She ends up taking a Nytol, which she rarely ever does anymore, but she knows she’s going to be way too jittery to sleep if she doesn’t. The last time she was like this was before she got her A-Level results and her mum had almost lost it with her more than once. She hadn’t realised uni would make her feel like this again, and that makes her feel small and naïve and homesick all at once.

She does manage to sleep through Harry returning home at god knows what hour, and when she wakes up the next morning and checks her phone, she realises she’s slept for almost twelve hours but she still doesn’t feel much better.

Harry’s beside her, of course she is, smelling like perfume and sweat and tequila. She’s not wearing a top and she’s barely under the duvet, and for some reason that just ticks Louis off even more.

She frowns, rolls over and kicks the duvet up a bit so Harry's more covered, but she's a little too vicious and ends up booting Harry in the shin, which jerks her awake.

“Ow,” Harry grunts, voice still heavy with sleep. “Wha… Lou?”

“Morning, Haz,” Louis greets sourly. Harry's eyes fly open and she blinks a few times, grinning as her girlfriend’s face comes into focus.

“Hi,” Harry says warmly, and then, “um, did you just kick me?”

“Unintentionally,” Louis says, and fuck, she doesn't mean to snap, or take this out on Harry, but she's never felt nerves like this before. “Sorry.”

“It’s, um, it's fine,” Harry tells her, then she rolls over onto her back. “Hey, what time are you getting your email?”

It's probably the worst question she could have asked, and Louis finds herself rolling over onto her side, facing the wall, silent.

Fucking Harry.

“Louis?”

Louis still doesn't say anything, forces herself not to cry already.

“Louis,” Harry begs, nosing at her shoulder. “Louis, babe, talk to me.”

“I’m fine, Harry,” Louis tells her, tone clipped. She’s not fine, in fact, she’s do pretty much anything for a cuddle right now, but Louis Tomlinson is nothing if not proud, so she refrains. “Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers softly. “Yeah, I did. Missed you though.”

“Mhmm,” Louis replies, then sighs. “Did you get home alright? I guess I slept through it, so there’s that, at least.”

Harry doesn’t answer; she climbs out of bed and moves into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a bang without a word. Louis groans, rubbing at her eyes, feeling like a prized dick, and she too gets out of bed, dressing quickly before she finds her keys and her laptop and goes back into her own room, locking the door behind her.

She feels like a coward.

11 o’clock strikes, then noon, and there’s a knock on her door. She knows it’s Harry before Harry even speaks, and that fact alone drives her even crazier.

“Louis? I know you’re… you’re freaking out or whatever but you… you hurt my feelings back there and I’m sorry you’re so nervous but… but shutting me out isn’t going to make you feel better, is it?” There’s a pause. “Louis, come on. I know you’re in there.”

Then there’s a harder smack against the wood, which makes her jump, but she manages to bite back the yelp that threatens to escape her.

“Louis, don’t be a prick,” Niall yells. “This doesn’t suit you, Louis, get out here.”

Louis bites her tongue. Her phone feels like a stone in her hand, taunting her. But she can’t look yet, _fuck,_ she isn’t ready to find out because this is _huge,_ at least to her. First girl in her family to go to uni, a _good_ uni at that, doing a degree that could get her into a career that will help her out and support the whole family for a long time.

But there’s more to it than that, too.

When Louis was in year 10, her geography teacher had told her that she would never amount to anything.

And fuck it if she’s ready to see that printed on paper. Or her laptop screen, whatever. That isn’t the point.

The point is, she’s still not ready. And so this is where she’s going to stay, hiding away, until she is.

She just wishes that her way of doing things today didn’t make her girlfriend think she’s an arsehole.

“Louis, baby, please?” Harry says again, more desperate. “I want to help you. I want to…” She cuts herself off with a sigh, and Louis can just picture the way she’s biting her lip, and she hates how she’s doing it too. “You know what? Let’s just go to the Extravaganza, Ni.”

“Really?” Niall says, sounding just as surprised as Louis feels. “You wanna leave her? On her results day?”

“There’s no point when she’s being like this,” Harry says forlornly. “We may as well go out and enjoy the sunshine, right?” There’s another pause, and Louis almost thinks they’ve gone, until Harry’s nails tap against the wood of the door and Louis hears her say, ever so gently, “Good luck, baby. I love you. Come find me when you’re… when you know, yeah?”

Louis finds herself nodding even though Harry can’t see her, and once she hears the familiar sounds of locking doors and the beep that comes along with the front door opening, she almost starts to cry.

Noon ticks slowly into 1 o’clock and Louis still hasn’t moved from her desk. Her laptop is open on its homescreen – she didn’t manage to get any further – and finally, as the clock ticks towards 2pm and her stomach starts to rumble, she relents.

She opens her emails.

It’s there, and she hasn’t even clicked it open yet but the subject line reads _Congratulations, you have pass…_ and somehow, that’s enough.

With shaky fingers, she clicks open the email from three hours ago -  (“three fucking hours ago, get it together, Louis,” she mumbles to herself) - and it’s only three lines long, but it’s enough to reduce her stupid, insecure self to tears.

_Dear Louis Tomlinson,_

_Congratulations, you have successfully completed your first academic year in Law and Criminology (LLB) with an overall score of 68.7%. This constitutes as an Upper Second (2:1)._

_We hope you are as pleased with your results as we are and we look forward to seeing you again next year._

_All the best,_

_Geoffrey Evans, Head of Faculty_

She passed. She fucking passed.

Not only did she pass, she passed well, and when she clicks on the attached breakdown of her scores, she sees that even though she did botch that EU Law exam, the 70s and 80s she got in her other exams kept her aggregate score high enough to get a 2:1.

She slams her laptop lid closed, grabs a random pair of shoes that she never wears from her closet, and runs.

She feels like the biggest idiot in the whole world as she jogs through campus, towards what the university are calling their End Of Year Extravaganza. Niall’s somehow wrangled himself a shift in the DJ booth and there’s various food stands and bars dotted all around, weird techno music blaring even though it’s the middle of the afternoon. Louis barely hears it.

She needs to find her friends, but more than that, she needs to find Harry.

It doesn’t take her long to find them; they’re stood with pints in their hands to one side, near the library, watching Niall set up his kit. Harry’s head is resting on Perrie’s shoulder, her whole body slumped, and Louis feels like the worst girlfriend in the whole world.

“Harry,” she yells, loud enough that everyone around her stops and looks. She ignores them, barrels through the crowds, and Harry has just enough time to palm her pint off to Perrie before she has an armful of Louis, who’s almost crying by the time she catches her.

“Louis, what the hell?”

“I got a 2:1,” Louis tells her, beaming. Harry’s concerned frown turns into a 1000 watt smile and she whoops, hitching Louis up against her taller, stronger body, hands under her thighs. Louis wraps her legs around Harry’s waist and she tucks her face into her girlfriend’s shoulder, peppering kisses into the same spot over and over. “I got a motherfucking 2:1.”

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Harry breathes, spinning her around, until they nearly knock into a bench and topple over. Louis reluctantly lets herself be set down but she doesn’t let go.

“And I’m… I’m so sorry, baby,” she sighs, threading her hands around the back of Harry’s neck. “I’m so fucking sorry, I…”

“You’re so dumb,” Harry tells her, brushing her windswept hair from her face, tucking it behind Louis’s ear. “And dramatic.” Then she kisses her fiercely. “Don’t you dare do that to me again.”

“No,” Louis promises, and she rests her forehead on Harry’s collarbone, drinking her in. She’s not a fuck up, she’s not a fuck up, _she’s not a fuck up._ “No, no, I won’t.”

“Good,” Harry says, and Louis laughs.

She crushes their mouths together, and Harry’s arms snake around her waist, bring her closer, closer, closer, until there’s no space anywhere physically between them. Louis’s pretty sure she’s crying this time, but she’s not going to pull back for a single second, not to check something so insignificant, not when kissing Harry feels like this.

Harry backs her against the side of the food stand closest to them, and Louis drags her in, closer, _closer_ , until Harry’s practically hitching her up against the wall, boxing her in. It’s sometimes easy to forget that Harry’s the taller of the two, but when they’re like this Louis loves nothing more, to feel little and safe and loved in the arms of her favourite person.

“A friendly reminder to the couple at the back snogging the living daylights out of each other against the Hamburghini,” comes Niall’s voice from the DJ booth, a hint of laughter in his tone, thank _god_ , “that this is a _public event_ and there are _children present_.”

“Who gives a fuck?” Harry mumbles into Louis’s smiling mouth, and Louis does the only thing that makes sense to her – she wraps a hand around the back of Harry’s head, keeping their foreheads touching, their lips almost there, and she raises two fingers in Niall’s vague direction. He cackles through the microphone, and the crowd around them are laughing too, but Louis barely hears it.

Harry’s smile is louder than any crowd, and that’s enough.

*

“Never have I ever had my arsehole licked.”

Louis proudly raises her glass and necks back her vodka cranberry, letting the catcalls come at her. “You know what?” she shouts, shaking her head at everyone who didn't drink. “You don't know what the _fuck_ you're missing.”

“Harry, your go,” Niall grins, arm slung around Jade’s shoulder. Louis briefly wonders if they're shagging yet. “Have you got something scandalous on your girlfriend that we should know?”

“I would _never_ ,” Harry says, pretending to be affronted, hand pressed to her chest, but then… “Never have I ever squirted.”

“ _Harriet Styles_ ,” Louis squeals, slapping a hand across Harry's mouth. “You little _shit_.”

“I love you,” Harry says, muffled by Louis’s palm, and when Louis peels it back there's rosy red lipstick all over it. She wipes it on a random tissue and obediently drinks.

“I'm gonna get you for that.”

“I'm sure Harry's terrified,” Liam says dryly. “Go on, Lou, your go.”

Louis’s not drunk enough, at least not yet, to spill all of Harry's darkest secrets, but she could always…

“Never have I ever fallen asleep in the middle of sex.”

“I was drunk,” Harry protests, jabbing Louis’s cheek with her nail before taking a swig. The rest of the table roar with laughter. “I take it back, I don't like you.”

“Liar,” Louis says, baring her teeth, then kisses her cheek. “Love you.”

Liam rolls his eyes as he fixes another drink. “Never have I ever… had sex in the toilets of a club.”

Now this one… Harry looks at Louis, Louis looks at Harry, and they both grab their drinks and chuck them back, laughing as everyone cackles and shrieks. “You did what?” Perrie howls, slamming her hand onto the table. “When?”

“About, hm, a month ago?” Louis wonders aloud. “Some time in between Easter and exam season.”

“You fucking _slags_ ,” Zayn hisses, but she reaches forward and high fives them both across the table. “Especially you, Harry. I've raised you so well.”

Harry pretends to bow before she curls up at Louis’s side, smacking a kiss onto her cheek. Louis slides her hand under Harry's shirt, fingers the loose material at the bottom, knuckles brushing against warm skin.

“It's kinda funny,” she notes quietly into the curve of Harry's neck (after they've both drunk to having had sex more than four times in one day), “that’s the first thing you ever asked us in a game of never have I ever. About the club toilets.”

Harry snorts. “Oh my god, I remember that.” She darts forward, cupping Louis’s face and kissing her briefly. “I never thought I’d have done it by now though.”

Louis grins. “At least not with anyone but me, yeah?”

Harry raises her eyebrows and then shrugs. “Who knows? If I hadn't been put in this flat, or you hadn't, imagine the number of people I could have been sleeping wi-“

“That's enough out of you,” Louis growls, possessive and too tipsy for this kind of talk, and Harry laughs, cups her face and kisses her again soundly, and then laughs some more when Louis refuses to let her pull back.

Tomorrow Louis and Harry will pack up both their rooms and say goodbye to their flatmates and their little flat and move back to Doncaster for a couple of weeks before they move into their new second-year house. There's plans for Louis to take a summer job at her mum’s hospital, and Harry's looking into internships at local vet practices, and they're hoping to save up enough money to take a little holiday somewhere before they have to come back, maybe to Scotland or to Cornwall. Then they'll start again, noses back to the grindstone as second year plods along, and there's more essays, more coursework, more all-nighters and more tears and tantrums.

Louis doesn't let herself think about that. She thinks about the laughs they'll have, the cooking disasters they'll inevitably face, the meltdowns and the hangovers and the takeaways and the parties and the sex and the best times of her life that are yet to come, with Harry and her best friends in the whole world. She thinks about the future. And it’s looking fairly bright.

She can't fucking wait.

 

**_Epilogue_ **

The car comes to a halt and Gemma cuts the engine, slumps a little in the driver’s seat. “Ready, Haz?”

Harry shakes her head. “No,” she says flatly. “It’s been fucking ages, Gem, I don’t know how to do this anymore.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gemma promises, squeezing her knee. “It’s just Mum, yeah?”

“It’s just Mum,” Harry echoes, then sighs. “But the thing is, what if she doesn’t…”

“Then we deal with it.” Gemma cuts Harry off then sighs herself, long and tired. This is clearly a battle that’s been had plenty of times at this point. “She’s still our mother, Harry. She loves us.”

Harry’s shoulders slump. “And last time you were here…”

“Last time I got a good fifteen minutes of Mum before she went elsewhere,” Gemma tells her. “And we’ll get the same today with any luck.”

“With any luck,” Harry repeats, but she doesn’t sound convinced.

“ _Harry,_ ” Gemma snaps, exasperated. She turns in her seat as best she can. “Louis, tell her.”

Louis looks up from where she’s been very pointedly staring at her phone, trying not to get involved. “I…” she starts, then pulls a face. “I am Switzerland here, okay? I don’t know your mum enough to comment.” Gemma glares at her through the rear-view mirror and she squirms. “ _But_ she is your mother, Harry. She’ll wanna see you.” She reaches forward and touches Harry’s shoulder. “She loves you.”

“You’ve gotta go in there with a positive outlook,” Gemma adds. “Not only will it distress her if you go in with this negative aura around you, it’ll just make the visit more painful for all three of us. And she’s going to meet Louis today, which is something you should be excited about. And proud of.” She smiles softly. “That’ll really be good for the both of you.”

“I’m excited to meet your mum,” Louis says with a soft smile. “I’m sure she’s lovely, and very beautiful, if the photos on your desk are anything to go by.”

Harry nods, breath shaky, and reaches for Louis’s hand on her shoulder, which she gently squeezes. “I can’t wait for you to meet her too,” she admits quietly. “I hope…”

“Me too,” Louis says quickly, because when Harry gets nervous she babbles and says stuff she doesn’t mean to, and over the course of their relationship Louis’s learned that cutting her off can be the best thing for everyone. But she hates the way Harry’s so slumped, so uncertain, when it comes down to something as minimal as seeing her mum.

And yet, this isn’t minimal. This is a huge fucking deal, and Louis knows how nervy Harry is for today. “You’ll be grand, darling. You’ve got this.”

“Come on, we can’t hide in the car forever,” Gemma coaxes, opening the car door. Louis kisses Harry’s shoulder before she shuffles out herself, then she opens Harry’s door and pretends to bow.

“M’lady.”

Harry snorts but obediently undoes her seatbelt and steps out. “You're so annoying.”

Louis scowls. “I think you’ll find the word you're looking for is wonderful.”

“Is it?” Harry asks dryly.

“Well, that _is_ what you called me last night when I made you…”

“Will you two stop flirting and get your skinny arses over here?” Gemma sighs, long-suffering.

“We didn't even have sex last night,” Harry grumbles, but follows Gemma up the pathway anyway. She snatches Louis’s hand as she goes and doesn't say anything, and neither does Louis. Even she knows that the time for teasing is over now.

Gemma goes to hit the buzzer to open the door, but Harry stops her, eyes and voice pleading, when she mumbles,“Give me a minute?” She nuzzles her nose onto the side of Louis’s face, breath hot and shuddery, and Louis wraps her up in a hug and kisses her again and again, wishing she could do something better than just kiss her and hope that's enough.

It never feels like enough.

“Hey, little love, what's this about?” she asks, pulling back slowly, reluctantly. “She's your mum, ain't she?”

“Yeah, a mum I haven't seen in months.” Harry sighs. “I know, I _know_ I'm being silly, you don't have to look at me like that.”

“I'm not looking at you like anything, baby,” Louis says gently. “You're allowed to be nervous but you've got to do this, yeah? And it'll be good to do.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry mumbles, sliding her hand down so she can take Louis’s. Louis rubs her thumb over the back of it. “Okay, let's just… quick, before I lose my nerve.”

The facility itself seems nice enough, to be fair. It's a little twee and a little elderly-oriented, but then again it's pretty much what Louis expected. The ceilings are high and decorated with ugly artwork, bright colours and the smell of flowers all around. There's a little reception desk on the left as they go in and the lady behind it seems to recognise Gemma, because she trots round and pulls her into a warm hug.

“Long time no see,” she coos excitedly, pulling back to hold Gemma at arm’s length, then looks positively delighted when she sees the pair of them loitering behind. “And Harry! Oh, Harry, it’s been months, darling, how are you?”

“I'm good thanks, Tessa, how are you?” Harry says, accepting the hug. “This is… this is Louis, my girlfriend.”

“You bought your girlfriend,” Tessa quips, then drags Louis into a hug before she's really aware what's going on. “Oh, Anne will be so pleased!”

“How is she today?” Gemma asks, hands in pockets. It's clear she's nervous too, as much as she's likely to deny it. “She okay?”

“She's in good spirits,” Tessa says. “I’ve told her you're both coming but I didn't know you had a guest.”

“That's okay, I think she'll like the surprise.”

“I do too,” Tessa says brightly. “Here, come through, come through. You’re here to see me, not her.”

Louis drops Harry’s hand and follows the group through into what she assumes is the recreation area. Like the hallway it smells really strongly of flowers, and there are people of all ages dotted around. Some are playing cards on the big table in the middle, others are watching The Chase on a TV in the far corner. One old lady even looks to be asleep.

It’s not hard to spot Anne, the youngest person in the room by far. She’s sat in the bay window, a book in her lap and slippers on her feet, and she looks _young,_ too young to be in a place like this. Louis takes a deep breath and silently heads towards her, the nerves in her stomach suddenly very _real._ She’d been quashing her own to focus on Harry’s but now they’re here… well.

It’s never going to be easy to meet your girlfriend’s parents, but this isn’t just that. This is so much more than that, and her and Harry both know it. And what she really wants is to make a good impression, regardless of whether that gets remembered or not.

Anne lets out an excited yelp when she spots them and hurries over, throwing her arms around Gemma, exclaiming something Louis can't make out as she goes.

Louis had half-expected her to look _iller_ , which she knows is awful, but that's how you associate dementia, isn’t it, with the frail and the elderly and those unable to be independent. Physically Anne looks just like any other mum, if a little more manic and loud, and not for the first time Louis thinks just how tragic it is to have a life like this overcome with an illness that's so all-consuming and dilapidating.

She just… she looks so much like her Harry. It’s a lot to take in, and Louis has to give herself a stern telling off in her head. She’s not the one who gets to feel sad here.

And then Anne takes a look at Harry and her face softens, and with another shout she brings Harry in for a tight embrace that lasts for ages. Harry doesn’t say anything but Louis can tell by the way she locks her arms around her mum’s back, linking them together like she’s something fragile and precious, that she really, _really_ needed this. She dares to glance over at Gemma, who shoots her a sad smile.

“You came!” Anne exclaims when she finally pulls back, looking her daughter up and down. “And you look good!”

“Thank you, Mummy” Harry says happily, then gestures to Louis to step further in. “Hey Mum, this is…”

“I’ll have Tessa bring us some drinks,” Anne interrupts, then waves her hand at the chairs around the table she was at earlier, sinking into the one that's got her blanket and a cushion on it. She rests her book on the table and gestures again. “Sit, girls, even if it is just with your old mum for a bit.”

“Louis,” Harry finishes weakly.

Anne ignores her and turns back to Gemma, chatting away about how she thinks two of the residents are going to get together. Louis slides into the free chair to Harry's left and stays quiet.

It's like Louis isn't even there.

Harry pats her hip and shoots her several apologetic looks, but it's like the moment has passed. And that kind of stings.

_It’s not her fault._

Tessa brings over a teapot and mugs, and Harry busies herself with pouring their drinks while Anne chats to Gemma about how beautiful the weather is this time of year. It seems a little mundane, if you ask Louis, not that anyone is. And then she turns to Harry and asks her about university, and Louis sits there feeling more awkward than she’s ever felt in her _life_ but Harry, bless her, makes a show of pouring Louis a mug of tea, asking her how she wants it taken even though she’s made Louis tea a thousand and one times before, then starts chatting animatedly about how they're living together at the moment and will be again next year, and eventually she gets a nod and a wave of hello, which feels like a massive win. It’s not a lot, granted, but she’ll take it.

“Gemma, Harry, a word?”

Louis’s gaze follows Harry’s to a bloke she doesn't recognize, standing there with a fixed smile. Clearly she recognises him though, because she nods and stands, like she was half expecting to see him today, which… interesting. She rubs Louis’s leg as she stands up and follows the lady out the room, leaving just her and Anne behind.

It’s silent between them, awkward in a way Louis assumes only she feels, but after about three or four minutes Anne turns in her chair and blinks, almost like she’d forgotten Louis was there after their brief encounter.

“Louise, wasn’t it?”

“Call me Lou,” Louis offers gently, smiling. “And you’re Anne, yes?”

Anne beams. “Yes, I am. I’m Gemma and Harry’s mum.”

“So I’ve been told,” Louis says, angling her chair so she’s positioned closer to her. “I’m Harry’s girlfriend.”

Anne’s eyes go wide, looking positively delighted at the news. “You’re the girlfriend I’ve heard so much about,” she titters happily. Louis nods. “The law student from Doncaster who stole my baby girl’s heart!”

“That’s me,” Louis titters, keeping a big smile plastered on her face. Obviously she just heard everything Harry told her about her, but she's been told to play along. “I hope everything Harry’s told you is good.”

Anne snorts and waves her hand. “Oh, of course.” She reaches forward and slides the plate of biscuits across the table. “Custard cream?”

“Thank you,” says Louis politely, helping herself. She dunks it in her tea and bites into it thoughtfully. “Mmm, my favourite.”

“You are taking care of my girl, I hope,” Anne says, suddenly taking on a stern tone. Taken aback, Louis nods hastily and wipes her mouth. “Okay, good. Because she’s a shy young thing and I don’t think she’d take too kindly to a girl like you breaking her heart.” She cocks her head. “Very beautiful and clearly very confident in herself. Yes. But my Harry…”

“With all due respect, Anne, she’s not that shy and she’s not that young,” Louis coughs, feeling only a little guilty for interrupting. “But I love her very much and I think she’s brilliant, and I’d do anything for her, so. I hope that’s what you as her mother want to hear.” She pauses. “But thank you for calling me beautiful.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear,” Anne says, too loud for the little room they’re in, and she holds up her hand for Louis to high-five. Louis obliges, grinning as she finds herself warming a little more to her, and then they sink back in their chairs and chat animatedly about Harry for the next twenty minutes or so, until Gemma and Harry shuffle back in.

“Hi, baby,” Louis whispers, reaching for her hand as she plops down into the chair next to her, and Gemma kisses her mum’s forehead and takes the seat opposite. “How was that?”

“Shitty,” Harry admits, only grimacing a little when her mum chides her playfully for swearing. “I’ll tell you about it later, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright,” Louis nods, then she grins. “Your mum here was just telling me about the time you hit Gemma in the face with a swing ball.”

Harry looks scandalised and impressed in equal measure.”I can’t believe you remember that,” she breathes, then catches herself when Gemma kicks her lightly. “And I can’t believe you ratted me out to my girlfriend like that!”

Louis can't stop grinning as the pair banter back and forth for the rest of their hour, giggling and hugging and even digging out some old photos from the albums Anne keeps on her bookshelf. It's unconventional, but it’s really, really lovely. Louis’s honoured she got to be a part of it.

It’s only four o’clock when they leave the home, but Gemma suggests an early dinner and some cocktails, her shout, so they drive back up to their house and park up, then catch the bus into the centre of town and snag a table at a relatively new restaurant that none of them have been to yet. Louis squishes up close to Harry on the booth and rests her head on her shoulder. Harry kisses her hair.

She’s not been worried, per se, but she’s been aware that there’s something on Harry’s mind since that meeting; well, whatever went on in that meeting, she guesses. And it’s not been an easy day all round, especially not for Harry - this is the first time she’s seen her mum in close to eighteen months, and even though Louis thinks it went well she can’t actually tell. Harry’s an open book when it comes to everything other than her mother, and today is no exception.

The waitress comes and goes quickly - there aren’t many people out for dinner yet - and once the first round of cocktails arrives (a Woo Woo for Louis, Daiquiris for both Gemma and Harry) Louis feels brave enough to ask the burning question.

“So what was that meeting about then?”

Harry slurps at her cocktail, obnoxious and loud, before turning to Louis slowly, lips pursed. Ah, so it wasn’t a good meeting then. “It was about the will,” she answers, toying with her ring. “Mum’s will.”

Louis tries to keep her face neutral. “Oh?”

“Pretty soon, we won’t get good days like today out of Mum,” Gemma says sadly, a brief humourless laugh following her words. “She’s been doing well recently but the doctors there don’t think it’s going to last. And Mum doesn’t either.” Louis’s eyebrows shoot up. “She’s had several meetings with Bruce - he’s the solicitor attached to the home - and she’s made her choice. So she’s signed over full autonomy to me. Not Dad, thank _Christ._ Me.”

“Aren’t your parents divorced anyway?” Louis wonders aloud.

“Yeah, but he still has control of loads of their assets,” Gemma explains. “Not the house though, thankfully. That was our grandad’s - Mum’s father’s. So that’s in her name, and now we’re finally able to put it on the market, because in a couple of months it’ll finally transfer over to being in my name.”

Louis whistles. “ _Nice._ ”

Gemma nods. “It is, like, obviously it’s not ideal and we’d rather have our mum back, but it’ll be nice to finally get this sorted and finished with.”

“With that done, we can finally cut ties with our Dad and Granny,” Harry continues. “Which will be…”

“Amazing,” Gemma finishes, raising her glass. “Fuck ‘em, am I right?”

“ _Gemma.”_

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Look, Haz…”

“Not now,” Harry says, voice firm, eyes fiery. “I’m not in the mood to talk about this now.”

Gemma raises her hands in a surrender, and Louis rubs her thumb over the back of Harry’s hand, which is gripping hers almost painfully tightly. Thankfully, she lets up the pressure a little, and Louis kisses her shoulder. “So what are you going to do with the house?”

“Sell it,” Gemma says, shuddering. “Too many shitty memories in that place for either of us to ever wanna live there.”

Louis nods. “Fair, absolutely fair enough.”

“And we’ll be splitting whatever we make from the sale 60/40.”

Harry’s mouth drops open, as does Louis’s. She forces herself to close it pretty quickly. “No, we won’t,” Harry hisses, sounding as gobsmacked as Louis feels. “50/50, like we agreed.”

“Harry,” Gemma says gently. “I already have a mortgage and a house and a car. I’m settled. You’re still in uni, you’ve got all that to come. Consider… consider this my apology for fucking off when I did.”

“Gemma…”

“Jesus Christ, Harry, let me do this one thing for you,” Gemma groans, clearly exasperated. “Why don’t you just…”

“Why don’t we all take a chill pill and talk about something else?” Louis cuts in, aware that Harry’s getting stressed and Gemma’s getting stroppy, and if the two of them end up bumping heads then it’s going to be ugly. They may be older, but certainly not wiser, and despite the fact that the two of them are thick as thieves most of the time, their fights can get loud, angry, and nasty. “Did Harry tell you that we got tickets to see The Lumineers?”

Harry squeezes her hand gratefully and sips at her cocktail slowly as Gemma relents and dutifully starts to chat with Louis about the concert instead. Their burgers come and go, and once they’re suitably full up and a little tipsy they head to the pub, where they have a couple more drinks before heading home.

They stick the TV on while Harry makes them all very fancy hot chocolates using her milk frother, a little gift Louis had picked up on Amazon for her to celebrate her new job in Starbucks. It’s only a few hours a week and she doesn’t love it by any means, but it’s a few extra quid in the bank and it keeps them in takeaways and pints. She’d applied to multiple veterinary surgeries and animal shelters for volunteer work or internships, but unfortunately all had fallen through for one reason or another, which had been a little gutting.

She’s still applying though, ringing up surgeries and sending out emails in between shifts. Louis’s adamant she’ll get chosen for one soon. Anyone who doesn’t hire Harry is a fool in her humble opinion.

Louis’s job at the SU is currently on hold for the summer but she too has taken up a job, in McDonald’s. It’s not glamorous either (the slacks she has to wear make her bum look flat and there are _so many children)_ but again, it’s money, and she’s loving the freedom and space that comes with them living in their uni house by themselves for a bit. She’s looking into taking up part time shifts in the medical records department in the local hospital though; regular hours and closer to her ultimate goal of becoming a medical negligence solicitor.

Gemma’s been staying for the past four days, heading home at the weekend. Geographically they’re a lot closer to Anne up here than she is down in London, and so she’s staying with them so they could visit together, all three of them well aware that if it was just down to her Harry would never visit.

Louis thinks well, hopes, really) that today did her some good. She knows how nervous she's been, how she barely slept last night because she worked herself up to the point where she convinced herself her mum wouldn't remember a single thing about her. That time isn't far off and they both know it, but today was good. Louis hopes they'll be able to go and visit Anne more, just the two of them.

“Did you set the Sky Plus for Corrie?” Harry calls from the kitchen, snapping her out of her thoughts. It's already set up and paused on the telly screen, so when Harry comes through with all their hot chocolates on trays she grins. “I knew I loved you for a reason.”

“My fabulous fingers.”

“Why.” Gemma says flatly. “Just why.”

Louis grins and tucks Harry under her arm, kisses her hair, mindful not to spill her hot chocolate. “Because it's true.”

Gemma rolls her eyes. “You two are still vile. I can't wait to be out of here on Sunday.”

“You love us,” Louis singsongs, then presses play so the familiar trumpets of the Coronation Street theme drown out any further retorts. “You’d miss us if we weren't around, at least.”

Gemma snorts and flips her off. “Don't talk over Corrie,” she chides. Louis sticks her tongue out at her.

There's still a lot to talk about, a lot that's still bothering both sisters a lot. There's a lot of shit to sort through and a lot of work to be done, but today has mostly been a success and she thinks it's done them both the world of good. The only reason those sisters ever really fight is because they care too much.

But they'll get there. With things like this, the best thing they can do is care, and hope that one day it gets easier. Not easy, but easier. Baby steps, one at a time. They're getting there.

And Louis already sees a change in the Harry she has curled up in her lap now to the Harry she woke up next to this morning. Her shoulders are a lot less tense, her demeanour a lot more relaxed and more like herself. She’s a lot less snappy and a lot more affectionate, and has even made a couple of sex jokes in front of her sister. Baby steps.

The future looks good. And they're going to walk into it together, hand in hand.

Louis smiles to herself, kisses Harry's forehead as the adverts start to roll, and spends the rest of the episode daydreaming about the future.

*

The next morning Harry wakes up early, six thirty almost on the dot, the sky still dark and the room cold. She kicks the covers off her legs and then tucks them around Louis, who went to bed wearing only a pair of knickers even though they have a guest. She kisses her forehead and smiles at the way her girlfriend moans softly, chasing Harry’s warmth even as she pulls back. Another kiss, and then finally (reluctantly) moves away and heads to the bathroom, where she changes into leggings, a sports bra, and a hoodie.

Taking up running has been a recent thing. Her first year of university had been mostly takeaways, pints, and Doritos, so she’s not as svelte as she used to be, and even though she quite likes her curves and the way she fills out a dress, she doesn’t want her overall fitness to suffer. So early morning runs followed by smoothies that Louis scoffs at while she drinks her milky tea and eats her bacon sarnie have become routine (even if they’re followed by takeaways, pints, and Doritos, at least the thought was there).

The familiar burn in her lungs and the ache in her legs is welcome as she steps out onto the tarmac, Kings of Leon playing loud through her headphones. At this time in the morning there’s very few people on the streets, just the way Harry likes it, because it means she doesn’t have to focus on where she’s going to much. Running is her Harry-time, and that means getting her thoughts in order, organising her jumbled emotions and strategically planning her days ahead.

It does, however, mean she has to leave her favourite girl in bed, which she doesn’t love so much. She misses waking up to Louis, but tomorrow is Sunday, their agreed day to stay in and do nothing.

Harry might wake her up with a kiss and breakfast in bed, and then while the breakfast goes cold on the bedside table, she might take her apart with her fingers, her mouth, her tongue, get her to the brink before they can lazily rut against one another, all sleepy hands and slow movements and soft kisses.

Just a thought.

Harry often finds herself thinking of the girl she left in her bed on her runs. The girl with the too-loud laugh, the girl that fills every room she’s in, the girl who can create chaos from nothingness, the girl whose smile makes Harry weak at the knees, even now, almost a year into their relationship.

The girl that Harry can’t imagine life without. Doesn’t want to, either.

She often wonders if Louis spends as much time thinking about her as she does of Louis. She remembers reading once that the average man thinks about sex 19 times a day, but she’s sure that she must triple that at _least._ Like right now, _Christ,_ she’s been running for two and a half songs and she’s already thought about Louis for almost all of them.

Mostly, she must admit, she’s thinking of the holiday she’s going to take her girl on when the money from the house comes in. She doesn’t know how much they’re going to sell it for, she’ll leave all that stuff down to Gemma, but she does know that it’ll be for a lot more than most teenagers have in their savings accounts, and even though she _should_ be sensible, she doesn’t want to be.

She’s been sensible her whole life and anyway, it’s just one holiday. Plus, the idea of getting Louis on a beach somewhere, in a bikini, golden tan and relaxed and away from the world, just for her… well. She can’t argue with that now, can she?

One of the things Harry loves the most about Louis is that even though she’s one of the most chaotic people Harry’s ever known, she can also be one of the calmest when she needs to be. Growing up in a house of seven siblings is no mean feat, and she’s got this incredible sense of knowing about her, like she knows how to handle any situation thrown at her with poise and intelligence.

Her ability to calm Harry down is unprecedented; not even Gemma can sort her out like Louis can. She knows the way she likes to be held, the way she needs to sometimes be pulled back from certain places or situations when it all gets a bit much. She knows how to read Harry like a book, how to read her silences and when to cut her babbling short and how if she runs her nails over that spot behind Harry’s ear she’ll basically fall asleep in her arms there and then.

Louis is fiercely intelligent, wicked at pub quizzes but also in a way that can’t be taught. Her initiative is second to none and she always gets it right, down to the littlest detail. Nothing gets neglected, no stone unturned, and Harry loves the way that applies to all aspects of her life, whether that’s getting ready for her exams or a date night out with her.

She’s also fiercely loyal, to a fault, almost. Harry doesn’t doubt for a moment that if she asked her, Louis would give her the moon and a couple of stars to boot. She’s vehemently family-oriented, and would do anything for any of them at the drop of a hat. And now, as she insists for the five hundredth time that Harry is also a member of her family - “my home wherever I go,” were her drunken words once, but Harry wears them on her skin like a tattoo - she feels privileged, _honoured,_ to be included in that.

She never thought it was possible to fall in love like this, but Louis has been the most incredible teacher of so many firsts in so many ways.

Harry decides she misses her too much for this shit and cuts her run short by a couple of miles. It _is_ early after all, and it’s chilly today, even for June, so she ducks through a side alley which moves her back onto the main road, which she jogs up and towards her home. Louis probably won’t  have even noticed she was gone.

She’s not wrong. Louis’s still fast asleep when Harry returns, in pretty much the exact same position Harry left her in. She has a quick shower and sprays some dry shampoo in her hair, because Louis will bitch and moan if she topples into bed straight from running, and curls up under the duvet again. Louis chases her warmth, breathing deep and then exhaling shakily before her eyes blink open, once, twice, three times.

“I didn't mean to wake you,” Harry murmurs with a wince. Louis shakes her head, all soft smiles and long fingers curling around Harry's wrist, tugging her down and closer to her so she can rest her head on Harry's chest.

“S’okay,” she mumbles. “Did you run?”

Harry nods. “Just a short one this morning, six miles.”

Louis snorts, and it's a beautiful sound. “Six miles is short.”

“It is,” Harry protests. “But I missed you so I came back for a cuddle.”

Louis nods and makes a pleased noise from her throat. “What time is it?”

“Just gone 8.”

Another happy sound. “I'm not working until 1,” she tells Harry. “Sleep with me?”

“In what context?” Harry teases, twirling a curl around her finger and biting her lip. Louis swats at her.

“I'm too tired for that shit right now,” she says dryly. “But if you stop talking now and let me spoon you, I’ll shag your brains out later, how does that sound?”

Harry’s beaming as she rolls over obediently, tucking Louis’s arms around her, warm and close. She's not normally a big advocate for sleeping the day away, but here, warm and content in the arms of her girl, she might just make an exception.

She’s finally happy, sue her.

*

Harry _hates_ working at Starbucks.

She hates the fact that she always seems to get put on the late shift, she hates the fact that every single customer is as obnoxious as the last, she hates the way everyone talks down to her because she’s _just their coffee server,_ but most of all, she hates the other staff.

She really fucking hates the other staff.

None of them are students like her, they’re all older and in gap years or young parents or something like that, and they have this way of talking down to her that she _despises._ She’s not stupid, she can make a fucking coffee, for _fuck’s sake,_ and just because she’s the newest member of staff doesn’t mean she’s the stupidest.

No, the stupidest is the lad who always does the early mornings. Harry always forgets his name, but that doesn’t matter because he always forgets little things too, like _manners._

On her first shift with him he starts hitting on her to the point where it’s uncomfortable, and she rushes out of there at the end of the day with barely a goodbye to anyone. The second time they’re on a shift together he sidles up to her and rests his hand on her lower back, and she drops the saucer she was holding.

“Don’t do that,” she says hotly, taking two steps back into the washing area.

“What, baby?” he smirks. Harry glares.

“Don’t call me baby either. I have a girlfriend, alright?”

He snorts. “Nice try, babe.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean, nice try?”

The idiot simply continues to smirk and rests his hands on his hips. “Playing hard to get and that. It’s cute.”

Harry feels her cheeks flame. “It’s not hard to get, I’m literally a lesbian.” She fumbles in her apron pocket for her phone and thrusts it in his face, tapping the screen to illuminate her background - a grainy selfie of her and Louis in bed together. Louis isn’t wearing a top but her tits are covered by the duvet. “See?”

The lad’s face falls. “Shit. Really?”

She has to use extreme self-control not to roll her eyes. “Yes, really.”

“Fucking shame, that,” he drawls, then turns back to the cupboard and starts picking out coffee beans. “Girls like you, you’re too pretty to be gay. Such a waste.”

Harry nearly drops the tower of plastic cups she was stacking and she quickly retreats to the store cupboard to try and get her anger and breathing in check.

She calls Louis, because she still has ten minutes before the shop opens and because she needs her to calm her down, and Louis, in pure Louis fashion, calls the kid a raging arsehole dickhead prick and threatens to sue him for harassment and homophobia, which is always comforting. She likes having Louis on her side.

And after that shift, she has a quick word with her manager about it, and Caroline gives her a sympathetic hug and agrees to let her work later shifts if and when possible.

Unfortunately, it isn’t always possible.

“So, like, which one of you is the man and which one of you is the girl?” the lad asks, cracking his gum, an obnoxious move. Harry wrinkles her nose. She hasn’t had to work with him in almost ten days, but then Charlotte called in sick. Fucking Charlotte.

“Neither of us is the man,” she says slowly, because clearly she’s speaking to an idiot here. “That’s kind of the point.”

“No, but, like…” The kid just won’t let this drop, and there’s only so many times Harry can pretend to clean this specific machine. “How are you going to have sex if you don’t have a cock going in you?”

She spins, hands on hips. “I don’t really see how that’s any of your business,” she says hotly. The lad holds up his hands.

“I’m just asking, sheesh,” he whistles. “Clearly you’re the woman if you’re this stroppy.”

Harry takes a deep breath and reminds herself that one day she’s going to be a top vet, married to the love of her life and earning plenty of money, and pretty soon she won’t even remember this raging arsehole dickhead prick existed.

But it doesn’t let up, and it starts to wind her up more and more with every shift. And then their manager leaves to have a baby, and suddenly everyone is getting double shifts but no pay increase, and Harry reaches the end of her fucking tether.

So she quits Starbucks, because the hours are long and the people are making her feel like shit, and she wasn’t even out of her probationary period anyway. She walks out with her head held high and her middle finger higher, then goes home and eats celebratory beans on toast because she’s going to feel guilty about spending any money for the foreseeable future now she’s unemployed.

Harry gets the offer to work at the Cats Protection League headquarters as a junior veterinary assistant just two days later. When she gets the email she’s home alone, and she has to tear the house apart for change so she can hop on a bus and get into town to get to Louis at work. Louis’s almost fired on the spot for yanking Harry over the counter and snogging her in the middle of the lunchtime rush, but they both agree that her verbal warning and hour pay dock was totally worth it.

They go out to dinner to celebrate, some big fancy restaurant that both of them know they can’t afford but choose to splurge on anyway. The meal they share is rich and decadent and cheesy in both senses of the word, because Louis can’t seem to stop paying her compliments and Harry can’t seem to stop smiling.

“My baby is so smart,” she coos, and the warmth at the back of Harry’s neck intensifies, and she bites her cheek to at least attempt keeping her composure. “She’s gonna be a vet and she’s going to save all the kitties in all of Yorkshire.”

“Every single one,” Harry agrees, spearing a carrot on her fork. “Hey, can we get a kitty, Lou?”

“I’m afraid we cannot, young Harriet,” Louis says sadly, jutting out her bottom lip. They’re both very much enjoying the wine, that’s for sure. “In our housing contract it says we aren’t allowed pets, not even the littlest fishy.”

“That’s bullshit,” Harry whines, mirroring Louis’s frown. “But how can I be the best vet if I don’t have a kitty?”

“I know, babe,” Louis says, very solemnly. And then they catch each other’s eyes and they dissolve into giggles, and the disapproving looks they get from the older and perhaps more distinguished clientele suggest it might be time for them to leave.

So they do, and they head back home hand in hand, and even though Harry has a key in her clutch Louis doesn’t let her open the door.

“Now, young Harriet,” she hiccups, then starts to giggle when she can’t quite locate her key. “Before we go inside, I would like to say a thing.”

Harry wraps her arms around Louis’s neck and hums. “A thing, hm?”

“A thing,” Louis repeats, hands finding Harry’s middle, toying with her cardigan buttons. She looks like she’s glowing, even under the slightly cracked porch lights. Harry loves her so much she can barely stand it sometimes. “And that thing, baby, is that I love you very much and I’m lucky to call you mine, _but…_ ” She pauses, grinning wildly. “I’ve been told by this lot that I can’t keep your celebrations all to myself.”

“What lot?” But Harry barely gets the words out before the front door to their house bursts open, making her jump ten foot in the air, and suddenly _everyone_ comes into view and Kool and the Gang are blaring through the open window. There’s Liam and Niall blowing party horns, Perrie and Zayn waving a banner that reads _Harry Styles #1 Pussy Lover,_ and behind _that_ are Jesy, Jade, Leigh, Ed and _Nick_ , her best friend from home who she hasn’t seen in bloody months, all wearing silly hats.

It’s one of the best sights Harry’s ever seen.

Louis wraps her arms around her waist and squeezes, cackling to herself as Harry struggles to comprehend all this. They’re all _here,_ for _her,_ and they made banners and fucking everything. They all love her so much, and that’s… a lot to take in.

So she does the only reasonable thing she can think of and bursts into tears.

“Awww, Hazza,” they all coo, and wrap her in a hug so tight that her feet stop touching the ground. Ironically her feet don’t feel like they’ve touched the ground all day.

“Alright, alright, let us in,” Louis bustles, shouldering past the group and straight into the kitchen. “Honestly. Keeping us prisoners from our own damn property.”

“It’s our house too,” Niall points out, but it falls on deaf ears because Louis is too busy bustling around in the kitchen, sorting god knows what. So instead of following her, Harry goes straight to hug Nick because she’s _missed him,_ dammit, and she can’t quite believe he’s here.

“Well, your girl can be very persuasive,” he laughs when she asks him. “Well. She threatened to turn you against me if I didn’t come.”

Harry cackles and shakes her head, a little disbelieving and not unsurprised in the slightest. But before she can ask him any more questions Louis pops open a bottle of prosecco behind them, and there’s more cheering as the fizzy liquid spills over her fingers and she slurps it up loudly.

“You _guys,_ ” Harry whines. “It’s only an internship. You don’t need to do all this for me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, young Harriet,” Louis says, climbing onto a dining chair and raising her glass. Liam takes charge of the bottle and pours it into whatever ridiculous drinking receptacle they’ve all been handed - Harry has a plastic Thomas the Tank Engine Happy Meal toy cup, Louis has a mug with a naked lady on it. “This is what families do.”

It’s all Harry can do not to cry again.  

“I would like to make this a big long speech, but I have had some wine,” Louis begins, flicking her nail against the rim of mug to signal a toast. Then she burps, laughs obnoxiously loudly at herself, then nearly topples forward off the chair. Harry rolls her eyes and tries not to explode with fond feelings. “So I’ll keep this short and sweet. I would like to make a toast to this girl, the best girl in the world, for having the biggest heart in Yorkshire and for never ever giving up on what she loves.”

“Only in Yorkshire?” Liam mutters. Zayn kicks him.

“To my girl, my best friend, my love, my family, to Harry.”

“To Harry,” they all cheer, but Harry barely them, too fixated on the girl beaming at her across the room. Those words mean more to her than she thinks anyone will ever know.

And they all drink.

**Author's Note:**

> big up mari and everyone else on twitter (@ttwinpeaks) for being the biggest support network. I love you guys!


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